


EPISODE FIVE: The Hunter

by J_COTW



Series: A Return to the Falls [16]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dipcifica, F/M, Gen, Gravity Falls Oregon, Inspired By Gravity Falls, Post-Gravity Falls, Returning to Gravity Falls, dippifica, return to the falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 30,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25740550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_COTW/pseuds/J_COTW
Summary: After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?
Relationships: Pacifica Northwest/Dipper Pines
Series: A Return to the Falls [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764109
Comments: 104
Kudos: 72





	1. Trenchcoat

Good morning, Gravity Falls. Pimple of the American North West, still with free parking, still invested with evil creatures and with a suspiciously large, empty concrete plot in the location of Geron Street. The sun was warm, the waterfalls flowed, and hundreds were already making their ways to the lake, eager to indulge in another day of the seasonable weather.

Life went on. The blown up remains of the gas station outside town, or the fact the Mayor was acting more strange and eccentric than ever? **_Never mind all that._ ** The town’s stubborn self belief in the power of forgetting was _every_ bit as consistent as it had always been, and that was just the way they liked it.

The memories of the past few days were still thriving in the mind of our favourite waitress, bedecked in pink cotton frock and hairband - going through her usual incessant crisis of internal thought, doubt and, most of all, fatigue. 

“Order up!”

Pacifica stifled a yawn and tottered to the service window in the diner. It was clocking onto 9AM, and, as usual, Greasy’s was busy. _Super_ busy. The smell of bacon, waffles, fried chicken et al flooded the building’s cramped interior, the clanking of cutlery and plates refraining with the overpowering sound of random, inane discussion and stray woodpeckers.

The morning had started with chasing Toby Determined out of the bins no sooner than she had walked through the door, followed by a group of gnomes wearing a trenchcoat and trying to order alcohol. Nothing really unusual, for a Monday. It was another strict routine of pure, unadulterated chaos that made up her typical working day. 7:30AM til 3PM, sometimes longer. Almost every day.

She always felt it rewarding, she always loved to talk to people, and she liked earning money but…hell, it was tiring. 

Never let it be said that Pacifica Northwest didn’t work for her lifestyle.

At least… never let it be said anymore. 

Of course, it could be argued that her life wasn’t getting any easier, in part, due to her new family. How many girls could say their boyfriend had now dragged them into stopping a business coup or blowing up a high street?

Food for thought.

She tucked her notepad into her apron and grabbed the extra large breakfast from the order window, grimacing somewhat at the sight of the greasy meal. She was beginning to feel a bit of heartburn coming on just looking at the thing. 

Her tired, dark eyes closed only momentarily...

“On your feet, Pacifica.” Chef smiled. “No time for a break, not this mornin’.”

“I’ve got it, Big C. Relax.”

“You seem a bit troubled, hun. Need to talk?”

“Forget it.”

She lifted the heavily burdened plates and carried them over to table six, where two of her best friends - _as weird as it was to admit it_ \- were sitting. She tried to put on her best smile, hopeful it didn’t betray how reluctant she was to talk with the two weird kids today.

If it worked, it sure worked well - Grenda, ever her boisterous self, practically launched into the tired Northwest heir. 

“ **Hey Paz**!” Grenda said, throwing her arms around the young waitress in her speciality rib-breaker hug. 

Pacifica stumbled backwards in surprise and rolled her eyes - but couldn’t bring herself not to hug her back as tight as she could. She had to admit, she liked them. She appreciated them, no matter how _odd_ they were.

After all, _they_ had been the ones- Right. Right. Waitress. Working.

“H-Hey, Grenda- one extra large breakfast-”

“ **Thanks! But this is for Candy!** ”

Candy smiled innocently as she took the plate. “How are you, Pacifica?”

“I’m fine. Busy, y’know?” Pacifica smiled sheepishly. She was… still getting used to dealing with being seen in a less than pristine state. Her immediate thought process was to try and fix her makeup, rearrange her hair, curl her eyelashes- only for her eyes to dart back to the genuine, welcoming smiles of her friends.

“And how are things with the Pines?” Candy asked, pushing her glasses back up her nose.

“ **Especially Dipper! Give us the gossip, Girlfraaaand!** ”

Pacifica giggled, cringing somewhat as the entirety of the diner turned at the sound of Grenda’s voice. She had almost forgotten how loud the girl actually was. “I mean, it’s fine, we’re getting along great-”

“ **We want real gossip! Are you gonna get married?! Have you thought of baby names?!** ”

Paz’s eyes widened. “Grenda, we’re like...kids.”

“ **You’re 14!** ”

“Not the point, Grenda. We don’t even know what’s gonna happen after Summer.”

“ **Get** **_married_ **!” Grenda bellowed in protest, thumping the table with her fists. Candy blinked as her plate lept off of the table slightly, before landing back in the same spot.

Pacifica cringed again. “We’re uh… just boyfriend and girlfriend for now.”

“It is pretty sweet.” Candy beamed. “I always knew you two would end up being a thing.”

“ **At least since Dipper screwed up on** **_their_ ** **date**.”

“That wasn’t a date, it was just a… a conversation.” Candy replied, furrowing her brow. 

There was an awkward silence - as silent as things could be in a crowded diner with less than 30ft breadth from wall to wall.

“No uh… no hard feelings, right?” Pacifica ventured, awkwardly. “I thought that was kinda open and shut…”

“I don’t do hard feelings.” Candy smiled. “He’s too nerdy for me. I don’t think I’m into nerds.”

“H-hey, I’m not into nerds either-” Pacifica stammered, a furious pink hue gathering around her cheeks. 

“Speaking _as_ a nerd, you’re into nerds, party girl. Dipper is _definitely_ a nerd. Probably the nerdiest.”

Pacifica wasn’t sure how comfortable she was confronting that blatant truth. She was into nerds? She had to confess, she found Dipper’s more awkward side endearing. She liked his obsessive magazine reading, she liked gaming with him, she liked his love of science of conspiracies and joining in. She loved to share those little geekier sides of life with him, he made it all so fascinating and- 

Wait. 

Oh no. **_No_ ** . Pacifica Northwest was _not_ a nerd. No way. She was _not_ willing to accept that.She was a fashionista! Not - 

“ **A** **total nerd! A geek! A dork! You even call him those things yourself!** ”

“I uh… I gotta go, work calls y’know?”

“ **Give me a hug first, girlfraaaand!** ” 

Grenda threw herself at Pacifica once again. Pacifica winced and just...allowed it to happen. Whatever, right?

She smiled and told the two to enjoy their food and babyccinos. No way was she giving Grenda full strength coffee. Imagine what _that_ girl would be like on coffee. 

It was just another morning, she convinced herself. Nothing to concern herself with. She uh… she might have a thing for geeks and nerds, but that doesn’t mean she _is_ one. She _knows_ who and what she is. She’s Pacifica Northwest, and she lives with the Pines - happily so. She’s also a complete _badass_ who defeated one of the biggest, craziest monsters ever. 

At least, she _figured_ Curzon was one of the biggest, craziest monsters ever.

No nerd would do that. Sure, Dipper uh… Dipper kinda had. But she did it way cooler. She was way more awesome. She was more of an action chick. A glamorous swashbuckler.

… Right?

By the time her lunch break had finally come up, Pacifica wasn’t sure if she was having a private identity crisis or just in denial. She briefly glanced over her cellphone to the usual texts from Dipper making sure everything was going okay, asking how to beat certain levels on bloodcraft, updates on the book he was reading, his ideas regarding whatever mystery had been on his mind…

Followed by rampant, faintly similar texts from Mabel, overladen with emojis, candid photographs of her brother and pictures of her pig wearing hats. 

Really, it was all business as usual. Pacifica smiled and sat down, resting back in her booth, idly picking at the fries she’d been given for lunch. She watched as Robbie and Tambry walked past, having now been steady for well over a year and showing no sign of the slightest discomfort.

It was kinda sweet. Sure, the two of them were… well, not the nicest people, and didn’t exactly do much to endear themselves to the rest of the world, but they were happy. And… well, Pacifica figured she hadn’t done much herself to endear herself to the world, either. At least not recently.

She sighed as she thought back; wandered backwards into her memories of what things had been like before all of… this had happened. What things had been like the moment that the Pines family had boarded that bus and left their world, for what felt like forever.

In fact, she… kind of wondered if Dipper had ever thought about her while he was gone. She was still startled by the fact the kid didn’t make her feel like some kind of royalty. She had always been used to that. The Pines just… didn’t. They treated her like a person. Like someone they could have fun with. Like somebody she could have a future with; not some kind of foggy figure on a marble pedestal. 

She looked into her satchel and smiled at the battered Sailor’s hat she now kept on her person. 

It’d be a lie to say she didn’t kind of love the idea that the Grunkles had planted. In fact, she had found herself entertaining the concept more and more. Swinging on ropes, holding a cutlass, wearing big leather boots with golden buckles and a long, velvet jacket…

That was how sailing worked, right? 

Stan had smuggled Pacifica a few odd photographs they had taken on their travels, in the hopes of encouraging her to join them. Beautiful ice caves, enormous, towering forests, ancient ruins and dungeons. It gave her goosebumps to even think of seeing those things for herself. Is this what she had been missing in that ivory tower?

That wasn’t even a joke, the tower her bedroom was in at Northwest Mansion included a guaranteed ivory content of 65% in the mortar.

She meandered over her thoughts as she flicked through the photographs of yetis, mermaids, krakens and more, smiling and idly imagining herself in every situation. Not to mention idly imagining Dipper hanging onto her arm, or holding her. 

_Kissing her underneath the Northern Ligh-_

_Nope, snap out of it. Sheesh._

She tried to fight off her blushing and get her mind back together - only to be startled by a tall, lean figure in a trenchcoat, his face hidden behind his collar. He spoke gravely, in a voice strangely like some kind of pulp radio show from the forties or something.

“Pacifica Northwest?”

“Yeah? I’m on break, sorry, can this wait-”

“I need information from you.”

“Like, no offence, but I’m not going to be able to inform you about much.”

“Madam, this is regarding Cankerblight.”

Pacifica froze and checked her cell for the time. “A-alright, we uh… we have twenty minutes.”

_So much for a normal lunchtime. Figures._


	2. Coffee & Bacon Grease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

Pacifica was not exactly sworn to secrecy regarding Curzon, and ultimately, if someone wanted to ask about how she defeated the state’s most terrifying anomaly, she would be all too happy to tell her heroic tale. Why wouldn’t she?

She illustrated her tale with elaborate hand gestures, drawings on a napkin - though she wasn’t the strongest of artists - and spared no gory detail on the darker subjects. Of course, she was smart enough to keep the mayor’s involvement quiet.

This man clearly knew who Curzon was; what was the harm in giving him more information about him? About the heroic Northwest who conquered the town’s biggest, most bizarre enemy. You couldn’t blame her for showboating - it was in her blood!

The man on the other side of the table would chuckle occasionally, his unfamiliar, pointed face rising in the occasional smile - but, otherwise, maintaining a stoney, serious disposition with darkened eyes. He was unshaven, eccentric, slim and wiry - like a walking toothpick with some… pretty impressive facial hair.

He peered over a tiny pair of pince-nez glasses, chewing on a toothpick and glaring at Pacifica’s meal with a strange suspicion, like he had never seen a deep-fried potato before.

Pacifica narrowed her eyes slightly as she looked at the man, for a moment, feeling a vague… recognition towards him. Not somebody she knew, but somebody she was sure she had seen before. He simply pulled his wide brimmed hat down and raised his collar further. 

“Can I get you anything…?”

“Do you sell coffee?”

“Uh. Yeah?”

“Coffee mixed with bacon fat. That’s how it should be done!”

Pacifica grimaced. It wasn’t the strangest order she’d ever had, but it was one of the most gross. She wasn’t even sure if that was something to ask Susan or Chef for. Still, the customer’s always right and all that.

Chef was usually pretty helpful when it came to special requests. He handed over the diner’s greasiest bacon pan, and, unceremoniously, Pacifica poured the thick brown oil into the stranger’s cup of coffee.

She tried not to pull too much of a face while the man in the trenchcoat beamed with genuine excitement - like a child being presented an ice cream sundae, or Grunkle Stan being offered a free sample at the grocery store. 

The guy seemed friendly enough, if a bit of a weirdo. Frankly, at this point Pacifica was just proud to tell her amazing story to somebody who hadn’t seen it first hand - it never occurred to her that he could present some kind of risk. Hell, she was the  _ assistant manager _ of the Diner, and it was so busy that the weird, skinny man couldn’t do anything without someone noticing.

He just… obviously had strange tastes. And not just in coffee. Who the hell wears that kind of jacket in Summer? Was that a suit underneath it? The guy must be melting alive. 

He took the coffee gratefully and chugged it, bacon grease and all, tipping his head back to catch every last drop.

“A traditional Oregon coffee. Thank you, madam. Not often one can get this these days, I can tell you.”

Pacifica just smiled meekly in response, still a bit weirded out by the man’s weird enunciations and bizarrely sophisticated tone. She made a show of looking at the clock and deciding to go back to work. “It’s uh.. No problem. On the house, alright? I hope you liked the story.”

“I may need your help, Miss Northwest. I believe Cankerblighter is still alive.” The man said, watching out of the window gravely. His eyes narrowed, the little toothpick twirling on his lip. “Still… out there.”

She froze. “That’s… that’s not possible. He was literally blown to bits.”

“Did you see that happen personally?”

“N-no-”

“Then it’s  _ entirely  _ possible that he’s still out there.” the mysterious figure replied. “I know that creature better than any man. He’s a tricky little rodent, make no mistake…”

Pacifica sat back down. “How do you know?”

“I was friends with him, once.” The strange fellow mumbled, peering into his greasy mug. “We worked together. We had grand plans for America.”

“I mean… he was basically a giant bug. That’s a bit crazy.”

“Crazy like a  _ fox _ .”

Pacifica raised an eyebrow. Y’know what, she was pretty sure she was done with this guy. She just gave her best polite smile and took the mug away, wishing the mysterious stranger well and getting back to work.

“Who’s your new friend, Pacificaaa?” Lazy Susan beamed in her usual good natured, if completely oblivious manner. “He seems niiiiice!”

“He’s uh… just a guy. Asking about stuff. I think he’s a tourist.”

“Oh, how lovely!” The stout woman replied, clapping her hands together. “I should get the merchandise!”

“I don’t think the guy has money.”

Susan blinked with her one good eye and twisted her lip. However, she was a Gravity Falls resident through and through.  _ Never mind all that. _ Let the stranger sit there if he’d had a hot drink. Besides, the customer is always right. 

All part and parcel for the crooked little town of Gravity Falls. In the end, there were many strange residents in town; and as long as they were relatively amiable, it meant very little to see an unfamiliar face in the cramped little diner.

Pacifica had grown used to random conversations - even grown to kind of enjoy seeing strangers from all walks of life. Even then, though… something about the guy seemed particularly unusual.

Like a man from a different time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must confess, I never expected to reach episode five in this little series, but it's becoming second nature to me, now!
> 
> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	3. Rattling Plates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

Pacifica’s mind was haunted by the guy’s words for the rest of the day. Curzon _couldn’t_ be alive. She was more creeped out by that thing than Mabel’s incessant photography habit, and the idea of him being as enduring seriously worried her. 

It was another nagging concern - another stressful little tidbit, piled onto what was already becoming a very tiring, stressful morning - something that she wasn’t particularly happy to welcome into her routine. She had blown up that crawlspace herself. She had to admit, she didn’t really know much about giant bugs and the like - that was the last thing on her research list - but she was fairly confident even cockroaches couldn’t survive being blown up. Why should Curzon be any different?

She held the bridge of her nose and sighed between serving duties, trying to keep her head focused on carrying plates, repeatedly saying ‘welcome to Greasy’s’, and sending the odd mildly flirtatious text to the nerd at home, trying to keep up the facade of everything being alright. 

Her colleagues noticed, of course. 

“You can do it, Miss P.” Chef smiled as he shook a pan of fried mushrooms and added an extra scarily large lump of butter. “Not long left.”

“I know, I know…”

“Rough day, huh?”

“You could say that.”

The rotund man raised an eyebrow as he watched her go back to her duties and twisted his lip. He was used to seeing Northwest as a sassy, cynical kid with big ideas and a sizeable attitude, but even at her most stressed, she usually had a sense of levity about her.

He brought her a slice of pie at 1PM and told her to take an extra fifteen minutes, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Pacifica smiled. 

After everything - even uh… wrecking the place thanks to the attack of a train engineer ghost - Greasy’s had provided a real home away from home. Now she even had a proper, nice, pleasant home, it felt like a blessing to get away from the more madcap side of life.

It was a cottage business. Pleasantly simple in its outlook, full of staff who had practically adopted her from day one. Ever since she had nervously approached Susan with the vacancy poster in her hands, and quietly stammered that she’d like to try working… 

She smiled as she ate the little slice of pie that Chef had brought her, and tried to get it out of her mind, at least for a little while. Sadly, it wasn’t an… easy thing to remove from her thought process. All she could think of was that smell of liquorice and fennel, that sound of scattering legs and hissing voice…

Eugh.

Plate after plate of pancakes, plate after plate of bacon and coffee omelettes - it was comfortably familiar, and, usually, as the diner settled in a steadier flow of customers in the early afternoon, working as a waitress could even become a somewhat relaxing routine. Today, however, was proving harder than most. Pacifica was fearful. She was _scared_ of Cankerblight. How couldn’t she be? The guy had demolished half of a European plaza before her eyes - onto her loved ones. 

She gulped as her hands rattled the empty plates she was carrying, alerting more people to the fact she was shaking. Pacifica Northwest, charismatic fashionista, had shaky hands? That wasn’t normal.

She tried to keep her nose in the air, keep her eyes closed, keep quiet…

What troubled her more, though, was a… decidedly more _Dipper-esque_ determination. She took it as a bit of a personal slight if that thing was still kicking. She had been the one to put it away. Surely it was her duty, her job to finish it. Right? Maybe Curzon was, like, her personal nemesis. Maybe she’d end up battling him in the same way the twins had battled Bill, or their rivalry with Gideon. 

It conflicted her a bit; deep inside her there was still that nagging voice telling her that she was **_Pacifica Northwest_ ** , and this stupid, crazy world was nothing to do with her, and nothing she should be involved with. On the other hand, she kind of loved feeling like an adventurer and joining the bizarre little family on these little trips through a town she never even _realised_ was so _damned messed up._

She also kind of knew she was pretty damned good at it. Everyone had told her so. As much as she had tried to repress those feelings of scandalised annoyance and sarcasm, as much as she tried to keep herself humble, even tried to pretend she wasn’t a member of the privileged elite, she felt personally _insulted_ . She still felt pretty angry about Curzon breaking her boyfriend’s arm. She still kind of wanted revenge over the entire snowglobe debacle. She was still pretty frustrated with how that thing thought it could talk to her. **_Her!_ **

She wasn’t some prissy little rich girl who needed the Pines, she was born to be part of the Pines! She was a natural! She wasn’t going to take this sitting down!

By the time her shift was over, her brow was furrowed, her teeth gritted and her hands clenched into fists - all the way up to the point wherein she met Dipper, Mabel and Grunkle Ford.

“Hey Paz!” Mabel beamed, waving excitedly.

“I missed you guys a lot today.” She smiled, running to Dipper and throwing her arms around him - momentarily forgetting the firm clonk of his cast as it hit against her ribs.

Dipper chuckled - in his usual anxiety ridden manner - and held Pacifica as best as he could with his single arm, kissing her on the cheek and closing his eyes blissfully as he held her. “We missed you too.”

Ford smiled and ruffled Pacifica’s hair affectionately, his tired old eyes warm and welcoming. By now, Stanford Pines didn’t just care for Pacifica, he had developed a newfound respect for her - especially since the tale of what had taken place in The Crawlspace, an area he had never even successfully discovered. “How was your day? We meant to come along for lunch, but Soos managed to crash his little train ride again. Nearly started a forest fire.”

“It was okay, Mr. Pines. Had a bit of a weird customer earlier, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah. Grenda mentioned visiting earlier!”

Pacifica tried not to burst out laughing. “No, it was a guy in a trenchcoat. Really tall, old timey voice, big nose… drank coffee mixed with bacon fat.”

Ford blinked. “Takes all sorts.”

“Sounds suspicious.” Dipper mumbled as he walked with her. “Old timey?”

“Sounds like an adventure!” His sister beamed, complete with dorky little dance. “What was he doing in town?”

“He was asking about… y’know. Curzon. Said he used to know him.”

The entire group froze. 

“So… the man knew about The Crawlspace?” Ford ventured. “And the animal that lived there?”

“Apparently. And thinks he’s still out there.”

The scientist rubbed his chin thoughtfully and cast his eyes towards the sign to Gerron Street. “There’s always a risk of anomalies still being out there _somewhere_ , Pacifica. Never a guarantee of peace, especially not in this town. All the same I would think a gas explosion would be somewhat… final.”

“Maybe we should go looking for him.” Dipper put in. 

“What, you wanna start digging underground?” Mabel retorted - in an ambiguous tone that sounded fully prepared to start bringing out the shovels. “What if we met up with trenchcoat guy?”

“I’m not sure how appropriate it is to go off meeting men in trenchcoats. Your uncle Stanley might be lapse with these things but I'm _definitely_ not.”

“Well…” Pacifica looked up at the old man. "Come with us, then. If Curzon is still out there I want to deal with him. Look at what he did to Dipper!" 

Pacifica grabbed Dipper's cast and held it up, the teenage boy allowing her to do so, awkwardly - his eyebrows raised and his cheeks flushed. He found it a bit embarrassing that his arm had been broken in the first place - what embarrassed him more was the fact his girlfriend had taken it so _personally_ . As if she was _protective_ of him. 

Ford rubbed his chin. "I could do with at least a sample of that acidic mucus. In fact, if I could ask the thing some questions-" 

"Yeah, sure, interview the millipede thing." Pacifica rolled her eyes and smirked. "Whatever. Just let us finish the job."

"You sound just like I did when I was younger." Ford chuckled. "A Pines through and through."

The blonde pouted. Ford couldn't know how much that conflicted her, of course, but… 

Screw it. 

"If that makes me a Pines, I'm a Pines." She retorted, holding Dipper's waist, firmly. 

"At least when Dipper proposes!" 

Her brother went a deep red. Pacifica went back into her age old defence of looking away and adjusting her hair, but still held Dipper close against her. She was nothing if not _resolute_ about finally seeing off the creepy liquorice bug thing for good. 

Ford cracked his twelve knuckles. "Fine. If your man in the trenchcoat is anywhere, he'll be where Curzon was last. I'll call your Grunkle Stanley."

He pulled out his cellphone and pressed a few buttons, mumbling to himself - before handing it to the kids. 

"Ahm... One of you can call your Grunkle Stanley."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must confess, I never expected to reach episode five in this little series, but it's becoming second nature to me, now!
> 
> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	4. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

Geron Street was still little more than an enormous building site, surrounded by boundary tape and huge construction machinery.

Naturally, the highway workers were on break. And probably had been since construction began.

Stan arrived in the Diablo pretty quickly. He was no more enamoured than the kids were with the idea of Curzon Cankerblight still being around, and had already polished up his No.618 ‘Special Occasion’ brass knuckles to contribute to any upcoming violence that the family might come face to face with.

Stan was on the warpath. He adjusted his tie furiously as he slammed the car door.

“Where is he? I’ll kick his Fennel smelling tuckus out of the damned state.” 

“We don’t _know_ where he is, Stanley. That’s what we’re hoping to find out.”

“Well, where’s the guy who thinks he knows?”

Ford gestured towards the lanky man in the hat and trenchcoat, looking at a poorly drawn map with confusion. He walked around aimlessly, occasionally picking up a piece of stray asphalt or a stone and licking it. He wasn’t the most… authoritative sight to the uninitiated. Or the initiated.

Basically, he looked ridiculous. 

“The guy’s dressed like a flasher.” Stan said with his usual lack of tact or subtlety. “You sure he’s looking for Curzon and not for an audience?”

Pacifica recoiled. “Great, thanks for that, Grunkle Stan.”

“Hey, gotta be cautious, blondie. How do you know the guy’s wearing pants, huh?”

Pacifica shuddered. She was glad the two old men were coming with. She was officially creeped out, purely on the principle of what could _not_ be under that floor length jacket. 

Dipper held Pacifica’s waist and smiled. “He’s just kidding.”

“No way, slick. I’m from New Jersey. Seen his type before. Our local one was called-”

“He’s _kidding_.” Dipper reaffirmed. 

“Thinking about it, I’m pretty sure he was one of my cousins-”

“He’s **_kidding_ **.”

“In fact, I’m pretty sure he came to my first wedding. He had a habit of stealing cocktail wieners. Freud would have a field day.”

Ford whipped his head around. “Cousin Charlie?”

“That’s the one, Sixer.”

“How is the old dog doing?”

“Life in prison.”

“...Yeesh.”

“He had it comin’. The nunnery had an axe to grind.”

Pacifica, Mabel and Dipper all stared uncomfortably as the tale of Cousin Charlie developed into more and more bizarre territory, waiting for the Grunkles to break off and join them with the strange fellow in the trenchcoat.

It seems the stranger noticed them before they concluded their catchup, as he soon glided towards them with a begloved hand outstretched, his face still completely covered.

“Northwest’s family, I presume.”

Stan and Ford glanced at eachother. 

“Eh, sort of, fella. I’m Stan, this is Ford, Dipper and Mabel.”

“We’ve met.” Mabel grinned. 

“Nonsense.” Came the reply, lifting his jacket to further hide his impressive nose. “I’m a _devilishly handsome_ stranger.”

Mabel cocked her head innocently. “Handsome…? I mean, I dunno. I’m an _expert_ in men and you seem like… I dunno, a six? Maybe a seven.”

“Out of seven!” The stranger declared with pride, his finger in the air. “Now come, it matters not. We have a creature to hunt! We need to find No.13, Geron street. Immediately. Unfortunately, my charts seem rather outdated-”

“No.13 doesn’t exist anymore.” Dipper replied gingerly. “That kinda… uh. That kinda happens when you blow a place up.”

The stranger narrowed his eyes. “Fiendish. He grows more dastardly by the day, by thunder.”

Pacifica leaned over to Mabel and whispered. “You know who he is?”

“I think he wants to be mysterious. Let’s just leave him to it.” Mabel replied, watching the strange man march confidently to the newly concreted area that now blocked The Crawlspace.

“If there is no Geron Street entrance, our mission may be lost before it begins. We must find The Crawl Space. We must investigate!”

Ford rubbed his chin. “There’s many entrances, but the plaza itself is buried. Nothing exists down there apart from rubble. Maybe a stray gnome.”

“Or Toby Determined!”

“...Or Toby Determined.”

“You’re sure about this?” The man replied.

“Saw it with my own eyes.” Stan added. “Curzon demolished the place.”

“No. No, believe me, my fellows. Our answers are underground. We must find the creature’s stomping ground should we ever hope to contain him! Come, show me one of these alternative entrances! Onwards!”

“Do you have, like, a car, or?”

“I have better.” The stranger beamed. “Linda!”

There was an awkward pause, as, slowly, an enormous - and heavy overweight - North American Bison lumbered towards the man, chewing idly as it walked through the boundary tape with nary a thought to its trail of destruction.

It stank to high heaven, surrounded as it was by flies, almost spherical in shape with its eyes obscured by its unkempt pelt. The immense bovine communicated in grunts and rumbling noises, seemingly in a constant state of trying to catch its breath.

Its tail flicked behind it, trying to kill one of the larger hose flies that gathered around its posterior.

The kids had never seen a bison up close before, and _certainly_ had never smelt one. They took a step back and winced as the scent infested their nostrils and seemed to stick there.

Ford and Stan were growing increasingly sceptical that their guide had any kind of information.

“This is Linda.” the stranger grinned as the creature licked his hand. “My noble, hardy steed. Together we have travelled America over the past year. I feed her on a selection of fine cheeses. For stamina!”

“We’ll uh… we’ll take the car.” Stan replied, simply. 

“So be it.” The stranger replied, scrambling onto Linda’s back. “Onwards, my pretty!”

The bison slowly trudged along, giving the Pines more than ample time to get into the Diablo. They were only growing more perturbed by the man by the hour, with only Mabel showing any form of understanding. 

“Look, Ford, I uh- I don’t like this guy.” The less scientifically inclined Grunkle said, his eyebrow still raised as his eyes followed the bulky animal. “I’m not sure if we should really be doin’ this.”

“I have a feeling this is going to be a wild goose chase; but, if nothing else, he seems to know something we don’t. It’d be foolish not to tag along.” Ford replied, adjusting his glasses. 

“In the end, if Curzon’s out there, we need to put a stop to him.” Pacifica grimaced as the bison waddled past the car at a snail’s pace. “Like, the guy’s a wacko but-”

“-But wackos are basically what we do.” Dipper grinned. “It’s about time we had a proper adventure again!”

Ford lowered his brows and turned to face the kids. “Not for you, Dipper. Not with a broken limb. I may be your Grunkle, but even I have limits.”

“What?!”

“You heard me. I’m not having you chasing after monsters with your arm in a cast. You can’t even hold a book properly.”

“Grunkle Ford!!”

“No arguments, Dipper. You can join us, but you stand by the sidelines or stay at home. Understood?”

Mabel beamed and nudged Pacifica in the side. “Guess it’s just you and me, Paz!”

“...Great.” 

Pacifica smiled with no small amount of uncertainty. This was… going to be an odd experience. She tried not to chuckle at the sight of Dipper pouting like a child being told to stop eating cookies before a meal.

“We’ll be alright, Dip. You’ll see.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” Dipper grumbled. “You have any idea how boring it is in the shack when I’m alone? All I can do is listen to Stan’s 8-Tracks! I’ve never even heard of _The 618 Odd Moths_!”

“Hey, that band could have been as big as _The Beetles._ ” Stan snapped. “Less of the lip, kid.”

Dipper crossed his arms and leaned back into the back seat of the car, giving a particularly annoyed huff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must confess, I never expected to reach episode five in this little series, but it's becoming second nature to me, now!
> 
> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	5. The Entrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

The Pines trundled down the highway towards The Shack in the Diablo, trying their damndest to keep it from stalling - having to keep it in 1st gear so as not to leave the bison and its bewildering master behind. 

“You think this is all some kinda snipe hunt?” Stan asked his brother, resting his head in his hands as the convertible crawled along.

“The person who knows Curzon best is  _ Pacifica _ , Stanley. I can’t tell you what could be going on with Cankerblight. I haven’t even seen him in person.”

The family turned to face the blonde, sat in the middle with her hands between her legs. 

“Uh. I mean… I don’t know him that well. The whole street falling onto him, the explosion… like, I’d guess that’s everything it’d take to kill him. But this wackjob seems absolutely convinced he’s still out there. You guys are experts in weirdness, not me.”

“I mean, you eat lobster.” Mabel said. “That’s pretty weird.”

Pacifica rolled her eyes and sighed. She was beginning to dislike the constant questions, especially when she didn’t have an answer. 

It made her feel useless. She thought she was a hero who had  _ splattered  _ the guy, and somehow he’s still going? Her resolve had softened into one of self-consciousness, a fear that may she have made a mistake and let Curzon escape. That wasn’t something she was sure she could deal with.

And now they were treating her as the expert? She had gotten this stuff wrong, if anything! 

“Look, guys, this is all new to me, okay? I don’t know what it takes to kill a giant shadow...thing. I figured he was as good as done for.”

“No rush, sweetie.” Ford smiled. “We understand. A lady of action, not theoretics.” 

Pacifica squirmed and smiled. That felt kinda nice to hear. “I-I guess.”

“I’m a man of action  _ and  _ theoretics!” Dipper protested. “Let me handle it!”

Pacifica giggled and leaned a little closer to him. “He broke your arm, Dip. I’d rather you sit it out too, hon. You’ve only had the cast on for a few days.”

“But-”

“Look, chances are we’re not even going to see anything, alright? The guy’s nuts. He’ll take us on this wild goose chase and we’ll be done with it in a few hours. Just chill. It’ll probably be funnier to watch than it is to be part of it.”

“I dunno, there’s definitely things I’d prefer to watch than a flasher riding a bison.” Stan cackled to himself. “Maybe if she was a 30 year old honey-”

“ _ Stanley _ .”

“Right, right.” 

Finally, they reached the redwood that Soos had been using for an entrance, located, as it was, between a loop in The Awesome Express miniature railroad. The tall stranger clambered down from his steed and began to examine the area eagerly, getting down on all fours and studying the numerous tracks and footprints on the ground. 

“He’s been here. I can sense it.” He mumbled, fondling through the grass. The ground is warm and slick with residue. A sure sign of Curzon’s presence. Note the glistening texture in the grass, the delicate smell of herbs…”

_ SNFFFF….  _

“Oh yes, he’s been here. I can tell. Mark my words, he’s being clumsy. He has no preparation for me, that’s for sure. I can practically taste him in the air…”

The family blinked absently as the strange figure scuttled around the grass with gusto, taking deep breaths.

“Who is he even talking to?” Pacifica mumbled to Mabel. 

“I think he’s narrating  _ himself _ .” 

“...Oh.” 

The Grunkles insisted on leading when it came to following the bizarre man - Pacifica wasn’t sure if it was in good natured protection of them, or just to see the strange little circus first. As a result, it was just the two of them - feeling increasingly awkward without the mutual party of Dipper or Pacifica’s relationship with him to distract the unspoken tension between the two.

“So… how are things going, Paz?”

Pacifica shrugged. “I mean… good, I guess. I uh… wasn't really prepared for this today, but…"

There was a pause. 

"Y'know, Mabel, I'm, like… really sorry about how things were last summer."

Mabel shrugged, and barely even took a moment to think. "I never hated you, Pacifica."

Pacifica stopped and blinked. That she did not expect. "Wha? Really?" 

"I may be silly, but I'm not  _ dumb _ . I knew there was  _ something _ weird going on with your family from day one. Dipper hated you  _ way  _ more."

The Northwest heir sighed and looked at the floor shamefully. Mabel immediately realised how tactless that little remark was, and her smile disappeared. 

"Well… Yeah. He  _ would _ hate me, after how I treated you." Pacifica sighed.

Mabel’s stepped a little closer and awkwardly patted her on the back. "Look, I… well, Dipper doesn’t hate you now, okay? He’s always been pretty - y'know - quick to judge people. And defensive. You’ve proven us both wrong. You’re not a bad person.”

“I was.”

“And now you aren’t. You’re a friend. You’re an ally. You’re, like, part of our family, Paz! We love you!”

The blonde looked up with a little smile, her eyes welling up somewhat. “Yeah?”

“...Even if you  _ did _ threaten to sue us when you parachuted into the pyramid."

"H-h-hey, at least I didn't!" 

“Besides, I kinda knew Dip had a thing for you ever since the lumberjack ghost thing. I think you had him the moment you hugged him. He likes being hugged. And… y’know. Pretty girl in a dress.”

“He uh… he mentioned that?”

“I have eyes everywhere!” Mabel grinned, stretching her arms out in an arch.

“I’m just… glad we let these things pass, Mabel. You’re great. Honestly.”

“We all screw up, Paz. I kinda screwed up big time last summer too.” Mabel smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of her neck. “The whole weirdmageddon thing was  _ basically  _ my fault.”

“I… I don’t think so. I understand why you did it.” Pacifica shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with like, wanting things to stay the same. To be honest, before all of this happened, I’d probably do the same thing to stop you guys going back to Piedmont.”

“Especially him, I bet!” Mabel grinned, nudging the blonde in the side. 

“Dipper is for different reasons.” Pacifica giggled, fighting off the pink in her cheeks. “As it stands I’m also kind of enjoying having you as a friend. It’s kinda crazy to think we’ve only been in this situation for, like, a few weeks…”

“Bet you never thought this’d happen, huh?”

“I never thought I’d even like  _ you _ , let alone end up with  _ him _ . It still feels so weird. Like, I ..uh… I liked him, but I never thought we’d work. I’m honestly still worried what could happen after summer. Your brother… your brother means a lot to me. Your whole family means a lot to me.”

“Hey.” Mabel linked arms with Pacifica reassuringly. “We aren’t gonna abandon you, Pacifica. You’re one of us now. Unless you hurt Dipper. If you hurt Dipper, I’ll probably push you into the bottomless pit.”

“If I hurt Dipper, I’d deserve it.”

  
  


“EUREKA!” Came a loud shout - The two kids glanced at eachother and ran to the scene, where the door in the redwood had officially been opened.

“I’ve found it, my precious hunting party! I’ve found the secret entrance!”

Stan rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We told you this was where it was. You got distracted by a moth, genius.”

“Moths are the greatest misunderstood evil in our society, Stan Pines. It is our job to keep an eye on them.”

“You also ate a salamander.”

“That was essential nutrition. Now come, the trees have eyes! And ears! And remember everything!”

The stranger flapped his jacket with theatrical glee and bounded down the wooden staircase that led to The Crawlspace, leaving the still hugely bewildered Pines family behind. 

“You uh… you kids still okay following this schmuck?” Stan asked, adjusting his collar and grimacing as he looked down the staircase. “I mean, we don’t know what’s gonna be down there, and without Dip…”

“Hey.” Pacifica put her hands on her hips. “We can handle it, Stan.”

“Right, right. Uh… Ford? You wanna go first?”

Ford was already halfway down the staircase, scribbling wildly in one of his newest journals. “Fascinating.”

Stan rolled his eyes, readied his cane and sighed. He never thought he’d see the day when he’d be walking into a tree with these crackpots, but sure. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, and there might just be something to steal. Who knows, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must confess, I never expected to reach episode five in this little series, but it's becoming second nature to me, now!
> 
> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	6. Wreckage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

The staircase twisted around into the bowels of Gravity Falls’ epicentre, still smelling of fennel and liquorice, still flicking in a dim, blue light. Still echoing. Still crumbling.

What was once a bustling plaza was now deadly quiet; a flickering mass of rubble and broken stone that echoed, rumbled and groaned in a continuous, collective silence that felt threatening, intimidating and fearful. The wheezing of broken pipes, the dripping of leaking water, the sound of wind and breeze flying through the cracks and holes in structures and walls…

It felt like a place long dead. A place of mourning and ill feeling. This had once been the centre of all strangeness in Gravity Falls - a place operated as a scam, a monopoly for a giant, belligerent creature with intents unknown.

Now, it was nothing. It was a disaster zone. A hazard. A forgotten relic of a long established institution, now left to rot. 

The family almost felt strangely regretful for how the Crawlspace had ended. They almost felt responsible for tearing out a once thriving community’s heart, even if it was with good intent.

Perhaps it would have been best if nobody had ever discovered Cankerblight’s secret reign. The fallout, the loss of prestige and the fear could be felt in every stone, pillar and lamppost that remained underground. There had been many murmurs of the weirdness in town rebuilding, or creating their very own equivalent to the ‘Space - but, as of yet, nothing had taken place.

It was unclear if any of the paranormal entities in Gravity Falls were actually competent enough to build such an overwhelmingly large piece of infrastructure.

Pacifica gulped as they wandered through the rubble and wreckage. The Crawlspace had felt ten times more secure when it was still going, even if they  _ had  _ tried to auction her off with Dipper. Right now it just felt… unworldly. 

Every step felt uncertain, every breath she took felt strangely… restrained and difficult. She felt insecure, like she was in the middle of a slight panic attack. She felt like she was being watched and judged by the remains of the plaza, the remains of those wooden framed buildings, tunnels and terraces…

Creepy.

She dearly wished Dip was with her to hold her hand, distract her a little. Even if it was just for him to trip over and make her laugh. Her eyes cast over to the pile of wreckage that had been building No.42; the structure that had fallen onto the twins before her eyes. 

_ Ugh. _

She still felt guilty over all of the stuff happening in the first place. Now she felt guilty for taking away The Crawlspace from all of the freaks that lived there.  _ Now  _ she felt guilty for the fact Dipper was left back at home because a building fell on him.

She adjusted her hair and twisted her lip, moving a little closer to the Grunkles.

Stan was already wondering if he could make an attraction out of the place, while Ford was sketching and scribbling down notes wildly, enraptured with what had once been a grand, elaborate underbelly to America’s strangest town.

(Strangest next to New Jersey, anyway.)

They kept following the lanky man as he bounded along, his trenchcoat flapping behind him like a cape, his distinct outcrops of brown hair catching the wind, his face still obscured by his high collar and wide brimmed hat.

“This place is awesome.” Mabel gasped. “I love it ten times more now it’s been blown up!”

Pacifica rolled her eyes and smirked. Mabel was, at least, a decent bit of security. That girl was basically fearless. 

It took a comical amount of time before the mysterious stranger finally reacted to the fact that the location he had been seeking was, in fact, obliterated. 

  
  


“This place has been utterly ravaged! Destroyed! Exploded!” the stranger declared, gesticulating with his hands wildly. “Oh, the humanity!”

“That’s exactly what we told you.” Ford snapped. “Why are you so surprised?”

“Silence, bespectacled one with the fluffy hair!” came the sharp reply. “I need to replan my strategy! I must call upon my underground allies!”

Ford blinked and held his hair while Stan tried not to laugh. “ _ What _ underground allies?”

“When I first discov-  _ arrived  _ at Gravity Falls, I was sure to populate this area with many inside informants. Friends and allies from the paranormal! Creatures of the unknown, to gather knowledge of the strange beings down here!”

“You know anomalies down here? Personally?” Ford’s hostility began to melt away, quickly. “You’re serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. I am  _ always  _ serious.” The man replied, halfway through licking a piece of stray concrete.

“Well, I’m pretty sure anything that lived down here has long gone, slick.” Stan said. “Don’t bother yourself, let’s just go back to searchin’, huh?”

“You don’t understand, my dear befezzled fellow! They were here to watch Curzon, and here they shall have remained! They live in safety, darkness and solitude, in a network of caves and fake walls.”

Pacifica huffed. “So they’re dead, basically.”

“What? Never!”

“If you bricked them up in there, they’re probably dead, mister.”

“I didn’t say they were human, madam! Only a small amount of them were human! They should have become subterraneans, living in a small rock wall community and overdeveloped senses of hearing and smell. It was all in my plan.”

“But the place has collapsed!” Mabel piped in. “There isn’t anything left for them to watch!”

“My friends were dedicated to the cause,  _ congresswoman _ !”

Pacifica raised an eyebrow.  _ What _ ? 

Ford scratched his head as he looked over the ancient, crumbling stonework. “How… long ago was this?”

“1841.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Almost a minute passed before the stranger took a small toffee hammer out of his pocket and started tapping gently against the walls, prancing excitedly. 

“This man is clearly unstable.” Ford mumbled.

“Only just picking that up, genius?” Stan snapped back. 

Then, to their amazement, a little knock rang out in return. The man paused and tapped back, which responded with a gentle rattling and scraping.  Something was in there, alright.  The stranger wasn’t lying. Whatever lived inside was, in fact, alive - and ready to communicate. 


	7. Pascoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

The family backed up nervously as the stranger and the wall communicated in knocks and taps - with surprising dexterity - before, at last, the man in the hat whistled with his fingers.

The response - whatever it was from - was whistled in return, followed by a series of scraping noises against the wall ahead of him.

“Pascoe! Pascoe! Are you in there?”

“Who the hell is Pascoe?” Stan asked.

“ _What_ the hell is Pascoe?” Ford added, as the wall began to crumble from the developing scrapes and scratches, revealing, at last, a single black, wrinkled eye, peering from the darkness.

“Pascoe is a knocker. One of my many knockers. I have a great set of knockers!”

Stan struggled to hold his composure before erupting into laughter. “No kidding! So did my ex wife, pal! HA!”

Ford responded in a very different manner. “A knocker? How did you get a knocker into the middle of Oregon?”

“What’s a knocker?” Mabel asked, only becoming more perturbed by Stan’s complete lack of maturity.

Ford flicked through his book before landing on his relevant illustration. “A type of Cornish goblin. We went searching for them in February. They live inside tin mines, in the West of England, and communicate via… well, knocking.”

“That was a great trip. We gave up and got drunk. Ford stole a traffic cone.”

“So we’re going to talk to a goblin.” Pacifica sighed, crossing her arms. “Brilliant.”

A thin, claw like hand finally burst through the crumbling stone, prompting the lot of them - except for the stranger - to jump backwards in fear. It tore at the remaining rockwork, until finally, the hidden wall collapsed, revealing a grotesque figure before them.

Pascoe was indeed a cornish goblin; a frail, skinny figure, with thin white hair on its head and a gurning face, Its skin light grey and chalky in colour. It smiled as it crawled out of the stonework, remaining somewhat in shadow, his wispy hairs fraught with dust and pebbles, with skin that was clammy and cold. It wasn’t scary, just… _bizarre_ to look at. A creature of such fragile appearance that had, somehow, managed to survive nearly 200 years inside the walls that surrounded Curzon’s insidious shell.

It croaked incessantly and inarticulately as it stretched out its scrawny limbs. The light bounced against its wet, beady black eyes, beset as they were with crinkled, furrowed eyelids. The overlapping bottom lip of its wide, boney face almost touched its nose when its face was resting.

Its skin was scattered with the odd blue vein, bruise or indent, its twig like fingers carrying long, thin, shovel like nails. 

The creature flailed towards the man in the trenchcoat, wheezing and croaking, as if it was expecting something. The stranger fumbled around in his jacket and pulled out a bag of what - unmistakably - resembled old-timey butterscotch, throwing it to the strange little creature, which tore the bag open with gusto.

“This is Pascoe, my dear friend and ally.”

The creature looked up, chewing on the candy before clearing his throat. “Gorthugher Da.” 

The stranger glanced back at the bewildered family. “That’s uh… that’s Cornish for ‘My horse has escaped.”

Pascoe raised a wispy eyebrow. “Bloody isn’t. It means good evening.”

“It’s also not evening, Pascoe.”

“How would I know that, Pres’? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in a big bloody hole in the wall.”

The family were momentarily stunned by the strange thing suddenly speaking up in a voice that felt old and genteel - a soft, droning voice that was impossible to find intimidating or monstrous.

It was just like listening to a grandfather figure - a soft, welcoming tone that was casual and relaxed.

“Fascinating.” Ford mumbled, leaning in to look at the humanoid. “How long have you lived in there?”

“What year’s it?”

“2013.”

“Been here 172 years. I’m a knocker. Sit here watching for Curzon, don’t I-” 

The creature stared as its eyes adjusted to the natural, bioluminescent glow of the underground grotto, and, wordlessly, it took in the sight of the carnage that surrounded the human visitors. After a few moments, Pascoe then awkwardly sat back and put a finger to its mouth. 

“I uh… must have dosed off. The Crawlspace wasn’t like this last time I saw it.”

“Think, Pascoe. Think! Where could Cankerblight have gone?”

“I dunno, mate. You didn’t give me any windows.”

“His fiendish behaviour knows no bounds. He must have found _out_ you had no windows and used that to his advantage!” The man replied with his usual, deadly serious intensity, landing his fist upon his palm.

Pacifica felt like kicking him in the rear. This was all a little bit too daft for her to keep up with. It was like watching a comedy take place before her eyes. Even Mabel was beginning to have trouble maintaining focus on the bizarre circumstances. 

“Could’ve probably done with windows, Pres. Your subterraneans are looking a bit peaky, too.” The knocker held up a long-dead human skull in his hands. “I’ve called this one Mark.”

The Knocker’s lanky compatriot leaned in and held his pointed, unshaven chin. “Bizarre. He seems to have… shed his flesh and membranes.”

“...He’s dead, Pres’.”

“So we’ve been _sabotaged_.”

Ford audibly slapped his hand over his forehead. 

Pacifica and Mabel had sat down on a piece of nearby rubble - which had once been The Crawlspace’s central bridge - hoping desperately that this entire exchange would end swiftly. What was in essence a monumental discovery of a hidden anomaly was, instead, rather tedious and irritating, thanks to the stranger.

Pacifica believed this trenchcoated gentleman was so silly that _nobody_ would want to _acknowledge_ his existence. If she had known who he actually was, she’d have realised how ridiculously accurate that was. 

She idly tapped out a message to Dipper on her phone.

**Paz: We found a cave goblin called Pascal or something  
** **Dip: What?!  
Paz: Says it’s a knocker and lives in the walls of the crawlspace, the guy has it as a spy  
Dip: What did he see?!  
Paz: Nothing. The weirdo in the coat forgot to give him windows.  
Dip: What does he look like?  
Paz: A pale skinny guy  
Dip: I mean the goblin  
Paz: ...pale skinny guy  
Dip: Oh. Lol  
Paz: I miss you  
Dip: I miss you too  
Paz: So bored  
Dip: Same  
Paz: OH HI BRO BRO! HOW R U?! WE FOUND A GOBLIN!  
Paz: That was Mabel  
Dip: Yeah, figured**

The two huffed as they sat back, waiting for them to finally move on and out of the wreckage of The Crawlspace. 

“...Anyway.” The goblin continued, throwing the skull over its shoulder. “I can tell you that I heard a lot of commotion a few days ago. Big explosion, that kind of jazz, and, afterwards, lots of talk. Pretty sure it was Curzon talking to his other heads, laying out a plan.”

“Excellent, excellent! Where did he go?”

“Dunno. I figure he’s off to start building his new shell or something. I’d do it in the cliffs, personally. But I like cliffs. Would have preferred to live in a cliff.”

“Excellent! Then we shall make for the cliffs!” Came the proud reply, a finger stuck into the air.

“Hang on, Pres’, it’s just a suggestion. I mean-”

“And I trust your every word, Pascoe. We shall ascend the floating cliffs and discover the secrets therein And I hope you find your missing horse eventually!”

The man in the trenchcoat bounded away, making back for the staircase that had led them there. The Knocker sat there, watching the eccentric figure and scratching his neck with one of his long, shovel like nails, still chewing butterscotch. It turned to the bewildered Pines family - who still felt considerably uneasy.

“You guys uh… helping The Pres out hunting for Curzon, huh?”

“We’re sort of the people that blew him up.” Ford chuckled. “Or rather, Pacifica here is.”

Pascoe’s eyes lit up, an impressed little mumble coming from deep within his throat as he looked over the nervous - and still rather bored - teenager. 

“Well. He had it coming. The uh… The Pres’ had a lot of dealings with Cankerblight, all of which went… bad. I think that’s why he’s after him. He’s thinking himself as a man of action. Some kind of hero, I reckon.”

The creature picked up one of the chunks of concrete, still stained with a thin blue mucus, and examined it. His boney face darkened as his beady, black eyes scanned the surface. 

“Cankerblight… Cankerblight is bad news. He’s difficult to get rid of, he’s difficult to defeat and his magic knows very few bounds. He’s got powers, that one.”

He handed the specimen to Ford, who took it eagerly.

“The Pres’ imported me the day that Cankerblight revealed himself and offered his first deal. Figured he needed an army of watchers, just in case. Been here ever since, keeping tabs, eating clay. The usual. Don’t think he ever told anyone else, to be honest. The Pres’ is pretty secretive, you know.”

“The guy’s nuts.” Pacifica said, without hesitation. She almost immediately felt ashamed of herself and clapped a hand over her mouth. How would a Knocker react to that kind of slight, if at all?

The Knocker just burst into laughter. “He is a bit… eccentric, is The Pres’. Never seen him like this before. Not been taking care of himself, I’d guess. I think he’s seeing himself as a bit of a fancy monster hunter sort, y’know?”

It took another butterscotch and looked at the wrapper, those wispy white eyebrows lowering as it fumbled with the twisted paper. 

"He might be a bit off, but he's a good bloke at heart. He never meant to get wrapped up in this monster business. Might not be much of a leader but he's _honest_."

"Better'n most _politicians_ , then." Stan mumbled. 

"I quake to think of that man ever entering politics." Ford snapped. "But we'll try and keep him out of trouble."

Pascoe raised a whiskery eyebrow. It hadn't occurred to the odd creature that his audience didn't know the stranger's identity. He just chewed his candy quietly and watched as Ford took down sketches and notes regarding the goblin. 

"You understand, of course,” Ford mumbled, “that while you might be over a hundred years old, your human friend can't be."

"Ey?"

"Humans don't live that long, Knocker. He has to be an imposter, or, at best, someone fiercely dedicated to your master's cause."

"Not a chance. I know the Pres'. That's him in the flesh."

Ford completed his drawing. "Yes, well… We'll let you know, Pascal."

"Pascoe."

"Sorry. Pascoe. Will you be alright down here alone?"

"That's the life of a knocker, friend! Just how's I like it. Keep yourselves safe, eh? Cankerblight is bad news for any monster hunter, let alone a human one."

Pascoe shook hands quite sincerely with every member of the party and wished them well, before clambering back into his hole and crawling away. Pacifica briefly entertained the idea of him having some sort of secret parlour back there. It seemed a very depressing life to be stuck inside a big lump of stone.

The family, finally, took their leave from the cluttered remains of The Crawlspace, climbing back up that narrow, winding set of stairs to the outside world. 

The smell of burning and fennel cleared from their noses as they finally reached the relative tranquillity of the forest - summer flowers and pine replacing the scent of Curzon's layer as sunlight beat down in the place of darkness and crumbling masonry. 

"Would it really surprise you? A 170 year old man in Gravity Falls?" Stan finally asked as Ford took note of their location. 

"The laws of life and death still apply, Stanley. I shan't believe that until I see proof."

Mabel considered saying something, but just giggled and held her mouth. 

"What? What is it?" Pacifica asked. 

"You'll see, Paz. Our stranger is one of the weirdest things in town!" Mabel grinned, giving a little skip. 

"I don't think anything is going to top you, Mabel." She replied with a smile on her face. 

"You think I top you eating lobster, or the big shadow bug, or the weird old man in the wall? Score!" 

"You're the worst."

"And the best!” Came Mabel’s ever-enthusiastic reply.

"Heh. Yeah, you know what? You kind of are." 

Mabel gasped - and bugged out even more when Pacifica did something she never thought would happen. 

Pacifica Northwest gave Mabel Pines a hug. Sure, it was an awkward sibling-in-law-but-not-really hug, but it was a _hug_. 

Pacifica smiled. Just being told that Mabel never hated her - _that_ had improved her day tenfold. She needed that conversation. She needed just to feel like she wasn't so much of a… 

Wasn't so much of… just some stereotypical reformed villain. Not just some bleached blonde valley girl stereotype. Now she just wanted to cover the same bases with her dorky little soulmate back home. 

"Thanks, Mabel."

"For what?" 

"For being a great sister."

Mabel laughed and hugged Pacifica back - albeit with far less awkwardness or hesitation. "Can I get that in writing?" 

"Dream on." 

"I _will_!" 

The two giggled and ran to catch up with the Grunkles, the older of which was still discussing his skepticism. 

Ford finally finished his note taking and chewed on his pen. "He isn’t a 170 year old man. Impossible. I just think he's a joker. Just some random, unstable townsperson who thinks he's an action hero."

“Well, it’d explain the trenchcoat.” Stan grinned, slyly. “Lots of guys who think they’re action heroes wear trenchcoats, don’t they Ford?”

Mabel burst into laughter. 

“What is this? Laugh at Ford day?” Ford smiled, lifting Mabel up in faux anger. “I think I’m an action hero, don’t you, Mabel?”

“More like action zero!” Mabel laughed, hugging her Grunkle. “You can’t even fly!”

“You’ve got me there.” Chuckled the old man in the turtleneck. “Well, if nothing else, the journey has been far from fruitless. I'll have to visit Pascoe again, some day."

The stranger reappeared, once again riding his bison (now wearing a small bowler hat) with his ever-theatrical stance and arms flailing. “Come, my friends! We have cliffs to ascend! Foul beasts to defeat!”

Stan looked up briefly at the looming silhouette of those gigantic floating cliffs, and back to the sluggish creature - that was now indulging itself in a pile of branches and leaves. 

“We’ll uh… we’ll meet you there, pal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must confess, I never expected to reach episode five in this little series, but it's becoming second nature to me, now!
> 
> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	8. Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

Dipper huffed as he sat on his bed, desperately trying to stop himself texting Pacifica every ten minutes, his eyes scanning the room as he tried to find something - anything - to distract himself.

He wasn’t exactly  _ far  _ from neurotic at the best of times - but the idea of continuing to leave his  _ girlfriend  _ to be the knight in shining armour was leaving him an absolute mess. There he was, treated like he was incapable because his arm had just so happened to have a building fall on it. What kind of excuse was that to leave him at the shack?

He chewed his pen, looking through his journals and books and wondering if everything was alright. He was meant to protect Pacifica. And Mabel. And his Grunkles. He was the expert in Gravity Falls weirdness! - At least, after Ford. And the toughest, most determined one in the family! At least… after Stan. And Ford. And maybe…

Was  _ Pacifica  _ tougher than him? 

His eyes widened as he considered the subject with no small amount of trepidation. He was a pretty unusual kid, a bit of a dork - but he was still a  _ kid _ . In his mind, he was still expected to be the rough, tough protector of his girlfriend and his family. Now he was stuck here after his girlfriend had saved him - twice - and couldn’t even use one of his damned arms. It was beyond frustrating. He wasn’t used to being left out of these things.

At least last time he had been distracted by the snowglobe. 

He took a deep breath and exhaled, leaning back against his headboard. He was still in a bit of a strange place regarding his relationship with Northwest. He loved her - he loved her more than he ever thought he could like anybody ever - but he also felt ridiculously inadequate. The fact was that Pacifica had been raised as the elite. She had been taught by the best schools, bought the best stuff, given a life that the Pines had never known. While he had always scorned it when they were rivals, he now found it a source of major anxiety.

He couldn’t provide that stuff. He wasn’t a millionaire. 

Of course it was going to… play on him a little. Like, he didn’t think Pacifica would wander back to the Northwest household, that had been quelled pretty quickly - but going from that kind of lifestyle to their relatively austere existence? That had to be… difficult.

For the past few weeks, Dipper had developed a pretty simple aim. Find something awesome, send it to the press, make lots of cash and blow Pacifica away. Quit school. Get married whenever you can actually get married. Probably buy a new PC and some of those celebrity cameos to prank the kids at school.

Pretty simple. He was convinced it was just about the best strategy. 

Of course, to really make money-winning discoveries, to really do  _ proper _ research, to really learn some  _ cool _ stuff, there was only one place to go - and that place was hidden behind the vending machine in the gift shop. 

In his mind, he had been granted unofficial access to Ford’s laboratory for some time now. He’d just never bothered using it. In the end, they were family, after all - and he had seen most of what Ford knew already, thanks to the journals. 

Sure, he  _ always _ made  _ certain _ he got out of the laboratory before his Grunkle went in there, and never  _ ever _ told Ford he went down there, and, in his spare time, repeatedly recited his explanation into the mirror should he ever be caught… But that didn't mean he  _ wasn't _ allowed in there. He was Dipper Pines! He was paranoid! 

And apparently  _ very _ prone to self rationalising. 

Who knows; his Grunkle might have some kind of formula to instantly mend a broken bone. Or might know of a secret witch lady who could give him a potion. 

Hell, maybe there were blueprints for a bionic arm. He'd take anything, so long as it meant he could rejoin the group. 

Specifically Pacifica. 

Specifically so he could rejoin Pacifica. 

Hell, besides that, he knew that Ford still had plenty down there he had never spoken of. He knew there was mountains of research the eldest Pines twin had dug into. Perhaps piles of stuff that never made it into a journal. 

It was a crime to not read it. It was a crime for people not to know! 

All he had to do was nip in while Soos was giving his train ride to the latest tour group. That way, nobody would notice him opening up the front of the vending machine and going down a deep, mysterious staircase into what resembled pure darkness. It was  _ genius _ . 

But the true genius was the accuracy Dipper had planned into the strategy. 

Soos was a man surprisingly good at scheduling. Dipper had spent a fair chunk of this summer keeping track of that. The new Mr. Mystery would begin a tour and spend exactly an hour showing people around the host of taxidermy, trinkets and odd photographs, followed by a trip to the gift shop and a twenty minute ride on The Awesome Express - after which he allowed between fifteen and twenty five minutes for photo opportunities and further gift shopping. Soos's sheer passion for the place had turned it into a well oiled machine.

By Dipper's calculation, he had numerous windows of time to get into that lab without anyone noticing - it was just a case of doing it, simultaneously, while Melody, Wendy and Abuelita were out of sight. 

He patted the hardback book labelled ‘Soos’ proudly and slipped it back into his vest. Was it weird that he still relied on lists and charts to do everything? Or that he was basically stalking his friend for a perfectly workable schedule? That wasn't weird, right? 

He watched the clock and listened intently for the tour bus gliding into the Shack's car park, and started making his move. 

Pens? Check. He has to take notes. Notes were his life. 

Paper? Naturally. 

A flashlight? Obviously. 

A forensics kit he had bought from the Internet? Duh. Gotta get rid of his own fingerprints somehow.

His phone? Check. Just in case Pacifica needed him to be an amazing action dude who saved the day.

_ Dipper Pines, secret investigator, was ready.  _ He peeked out of the window and grinned as Soos went through his routine of pretending the place was constantly full of customers. 

"Dudes, I barely even realised you were here! Welcome to my Shack, my Shack of like - total mysteries, surprises and shocks-a-plenty!" 

"Do you have a bathroom?" 

"We sure do, dog, but we can't take any responsibility for the horrors in there. It's also two bucks."

Dipper sat quietly, confident that, within just over an hour, he’d be inside the shack’s foundations reading about all times of cryptids and oddities - all kinds of Gravity Falls-esque nonsense with vigour. 

Even if no cure for his fractured arm lay ahead, one thing was for sure - he’d come out  _ smarter,  _ and, by proxy,  _ more impressive.  _ And Dipper Pines was all about trying to be impressive. 

By the time it was due for the tourists to be taken to the miniature railroad, he was on his way - improvising his own little theme tune as he nipped down the staircase with as much stealth as he could allow himself. At least, allow himself while improvising a theme tune. 

He slipped into the gift shop - only to run into the Shack's host.  


“Hey, dude!”

“Soos!” Dipper jumped out of his skin, before trying to maintain a relaxed exterior. “ ...Heyyy! What are you doing here?”

“I’m selling my mixtape, dog! Check it out - ‘The Soos files: A Mixtape of Mysteries’. It’s off the chain - and mostly taped off of the radio!”

“B-but why aren’t you giving train rides?”

Soos smiled and adjusted his fez with the 8-ball cane. “The train’s out of order since it crashed this morning. I had to pop my own shoulder back into its socket! It was awesome, dude!”

Dipper gulped, taking in the massive amount of tourists inside the shop, eagerly buying up just about every overpriced piece of tat in the place. “So...so when is it gonna be back running?”

“Dunno, dog. I’ve got Manly Dan fixing her up right now.”

There was a loud roar of anger as the battered locomotive flew past the gift shop window and promptly embedded itself in a pine tree. 

Soos grinned confidently. “Maybe a day or two. Wendy said that guy can fix anything.”

“I didn’t say that.” Wendy replied, bluntly. “ _ You _ said that after seeing the statue he carved of Stan.”

“He’s an artisan of wood, Wendy. The Awesome Express is like, nothing to a man like him.”

“Whatever. What are you doing here, Dip?”

Dipper scraped his foot on the floor awkwardly. “Uh.. nothing. Just, y’know, bored. Aheh.”

“Trying to get into Ford’s study again, huh?” the redhead smirked. “You’re about as subtle as the price stickers, man.”

Dipper sighed. “Look, you guys, I’m losing my mind. Everyone else is off doing stuff and I’m stuck here.”

“Hey.” Soos gave his broadest, most energetic grin. “Look at the bright side!”

“What’s the bright side?!” 

“Staying here is totally armless dude!! Do you get it? Armless? Because one of your arms is-”

“I get it.” Dipper replied, flatly. “Hilarious, Soos.”

“The stand up routine’s coming along, dude.” Came the completely oblivious response, before the portly, ever enthusiastic Mr. Mystery was called over for an autograph. 

Dipper huffed and looked back up at Wendy. "Cover for me?" 

"Dude, you really think these guys are gonna notice? They've been hypnotised by the bobbleheads for the past ten minutes. Get going before they spot the action figures." She smiled, giving him a wink. 

Dipper tried to hide the rising colour in his cheeks and smiled."You're the coolest."

"Don't let Pacifica hear that, dude."

Dipper waited for his moment, keyed in the code… and slipped behind the machine with a surprising level of stealth. Not something that, in reality, was much of a priority when surrounded by tourists, who were now distracted by a series of holographic notebooks and glittery erasers that smelt like raspberry. 

He tiptoed down the steps to the lab, his heart rising in his chest with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. He knew that somewhere down there, there was a whole host of secret research, forbidden information - the abridged files of Stanford Pines' career of research and exploration. He knew that there was a  _ jackpot _ waiting to be read. 

And all it had taken was a building falling onto his arm to provide that perfect opportunity. _ A small sacrifice! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must confess, I never expected to reach episode five in this little series, but it's becoming second nature to me, now!
> 
> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	9. The Hidden Tales of Stanford Pines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

Stanford’s study and laboratory were both practical wonderlands to the mind of Dipper. He had often wanted to come down and get to grips with the reality of his Grunkles - after all, there was still much he  _ didn't _ know or understand about the idea of being a Weirdness explorer. 

Ford often presented a facade of a clean cut, tidy and sophisticated individual - that much was clear - but the Pines were all cut, in the end, from a similar cloth. Ford was almost  _ definitely  _ more like Stan than he was willing to let on, and, as Dipper had thought about it over the past year, he had only grown more convinced that there were small details his tutor had kept from him. 

The Journals, as respected and informative as they were, seemed curated. Like they had been reviewed and edited long before Dipper had picked them up. Like there was an internal logic. The sheer weirdness of Gravity Falls was impossible to neglect, of course, but after the likes of Curzon, the likes of Weirdmageddon, the likes of the ghosts and hauntings they had encountered… it still felt, unequivocally, that there was more. More weirdness, more bizarre creatures, more conspiracies and secrets than he, Ford or anyone else in the town had ever understood. 

Dipper sincerely trusted and loved his Grunkle Ford. There was probably a good explanation as to why the old man would keep anything from him. But this was  _ beyond  _ personal ties. It was about  _ knowledge _ . About discovery and clarity… with a little side target of impressing Pacifica and helping her rejoin the elite.

Was the strangest thing in town really a stomach faced duck or a living video game? He doubted it. 

In his mind, there were probably hundreds of investigations that Ford hadn't followed up before he was sucked into that portal. And who else would actually look onto this stuff? 

Besides, what would validate him more as a paranormal investigator than proving there were even stranger things out there? He needed to find the stuff so stupid - so ridiculous - so bizarre that there was no way for the wider world to ignore it. 

He needed something that he could be famous from. Even if it was something harmless. As long as it was ridiculously bizarre, he might at least get a viral video from it. He wasn’t that fussy. 

Dipper had decided that if he was meant to look after his once wealthy girlfriend, he needed money, fame and scientific esteem in equal measure. He wanted to chase rumours and folklore. And, unfortunately, Dipper was a Pines.

Dipper was stubborn. Dipper was foolhardy. Dipper was a little bit neurotic. And still absolutely _obsessed_ with trying to be the man of the household, the breadwinner, the totally cool monster hunting grown up action hero that he was absolutely _certain_ he was destined to be. The guy who, in his mind, _deserved_ Pacifica’s attention. The one that could _impress_ his girlfriend. 

He cracked his knuckles, emboldened by his own thought process, and stepped into the cluttered, book filled study that Ford kept underground. The place was a mess - hoarded in research, books and documentation that covered just about every subject Ford had ever shown the vaguest interest or fixation upon - from card tricks, to roleplaying games, to his secret love of collecting postcards from Glass Shards, New Jersey and miniature porcelain animals in twee poses.

It took a fair while to sift through the piles of miscellany, before, at last, he pulled out a book. It was clearly of similar size and shape to the ones Dipper held in such esteem - but carried no hand appliqué, no number - and its covers were in little more than drab grey compared to rich red that gave so much mystique to its ‘official’ counterparts.

All the same, it was unmistakable. This was another journal. He couldn't believe it. Could it seriously be true? His Grunkle had kept a whole other book from him?!  


Another of Stanford’s records and notebooks, albeit one clearly held in less esteem and not part of the ‘official trilogy’. Could it be that these were rejects? Things that even Ford hadn’t known about?

Dipper wasn’t prone to thinking himself as better than Ford, but he had proven himself plenty of times as a very skilled investigator.

Right?

Right. Finding these things would be a piece of cake. 

He anxiously glanced over his shoulder - just in case - then opened the cover, taking in the scent of aged binding glue, of ink, of old paper and charcoal pencils, the binding creaking as it was awoken for the first time in decades. This was it. His mind flashed back to the memories of when he first discovered journal 3 - the anticipation, the excitement, the thrill. He tried not to shake, tried desperately to stay calm, and then broke into a wide grin. There was Stanford’s handwriting, familiarly scrawled into those old pages - detailing exactly what the young investigator had been looking for.

> “ _ The reality of Gravity Falls is a strange one. One that goes deeper than my cataloguing of anomalies and oddities. I have heard many theories that I am yet to investigate further.  _
> 
> _ The reality is that, even for this town, there are things that I believe are simply too ridiculous to investigate. Whether these exist or not, they were too unbelievable for me to dedicate time towards.  _
> 
> _ These idle jottings will take note of those oddities I simply haven’t the inclination to chase towards. Doubtless, should somebody discover these bizarre beings, creatures and phenomena, they will become a very rich man - provided they can get solid evidence.  _
> 
> _ Consider this an abridged journal. Perhaps 2 and a half. _ ”

Too weird? Too weird for the journals? Bizarre beings, creatures and phenomena?

Become a very rich man?

This seemed perfect. It seemed almost too good to be true. And, even more amazing, the very first thing in the weathered grey tome was one of the most ridiculous things he had ever seen or heard of. He almost discredited the idea himself at the first glance. 

He started taking photographs of the pages immediately. This was gonna be big - and, if he played his cards right, he would be the only person in the world who knew these things existed.

That meant exclusivity. 

That meant millions in ad revenue.

It was a flawless plan. _ Sort of.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must confess, I never expected to reach episode five in this little series, but it's becoming second nature to me, now!
> 
> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	10. Into the Cliffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

The stranger approached the cliff with his, by now, familiar sense of theatrics, his fists prepared, his coat flapping in the gentle summer breeze, his shoulders sashaying back and forth in a squared power stance.

He gesticulated wildly with his hands, throwing them open to such an extent he almost appeared prepared to embrace the chalky surface with  _ passion _ . 

"Behold!” He shouted. “The Gravity Falls floating cliffs!" 

"We know. We've been waiting for you for the past hour." Stan yawned, standing up from the log he had been perched upon and cracking his back. 

"Linda may be a blazing steed, but your horseless carriage  _ does _ seem superior." the stranger remarked thoughtfully, giving the El Diablo’s tyres a kick. Stan almost got up to give the stranger a kick in response, before Ford pulled him back.

"How are we even getting into there?" Pacifica asked, still trying her damnedest - and failing - to hold her limited patience. 

It was a valid question. The floating cliffs were enormous structures of steep rock face, towering hundreds of feet above the town. As if to further validate her concerns, a few pieces of rocky debris fell to the floor. 

"We'll have to climb." The stranger replied, darkly. 

"Oh no. No way. I am  _ not _ clambering up there, pal. I'm in my sixties, ya know? You show me a sixty year old man who can climb a cliff, I'll show you a joker who needs to take a damned break."

"Climbing those cliffs is a fool's errand." Ford agreed. "We'd never make it."

Pacifica looked up that steep, towering rock face and grimaced. "You want me to ruin  _ more _ clothes and manicures for the sake of your freaky shadow bug? If he wants the town, he can have it. This is dumb."

The stranger approached the cliffs boldly, his fists clenched into a firm resolve, and narrowed his eyes. "No, my friends. We shall  _ have _ to climb…"

He then promptly jabbed a climbing spike into the rock and pulled, firmly - opening up a false doorway hidden underneath layers of plaster of paris and papier mache. "... Climb the staircase to my secret lair."

The family stared at the narrow staircase, lit by torches, that seemed to twist and turn deep into one of the town’s most imposing locations, hewn, as it was, from rough, fractured sandstone - cut deep into the cliff in a winding, surprisingly deft tunnel. 

"...You.  _ You  _ have a secret lair.  _ Inside _ the cliffs." Ford held his head, beginning to get increasingly perturbed by the stranger’s bizarre mix of genius and maniacal, eccentric grip on reality. "How?" 

"I've spent the past year digging it out with an army of  _ rock beavers. _ And a spoon."

Stan adjusted his glasses and twisted his lip. “What the hell is a-”

“A rock beaver? I’m glad you asked! I got the idea from my congresswoman!" the stranger grinned enthusiastically, gesturing to Mabel. "Add metal wires and shards to  _ anything's  _ teeth and it becomes a lethal weapon!" 

"Whaaat? Mabel critters?! This is the best adventure ever! Dipper would be jealous like heck!" Mabel called from halfway up the rock face. 

Ford ran to pull her back down, placing her back on her feet.

“...I kinda miss my braces.”

The family blinked as Mabel erratically licked her teeth to illustrate her point.

"I wonder what a Dipper critter would be like." Pacifica chuckled.

"It'd smell like old clothes and be obsessed with you, duh! And you'd find it  _ adorable _ ."

The blonde giggled and adjusted her hair. "I'm working on making him shower, okay? It isn't as easy as it seems."

"You should join him! That'd convince Dipper easy!" 

Pacifica's eyes widened, her face going bright red. " _ M-Mabel _ !" 

" _ Whaaat _ ? He  _ is _ a boy!" 

"I could kill you for saying that! You weirdo!" 

"You'll have to catch me first!”

The adults watched as Mabel immediately ran up the concealed staircase, followed quickly by her sister-in-law.

Ford blinked and looked up to Stan. “Is it really so smart for them to just run up that staircase like that? What have you been teaching them, Stanley?!”

“This is… this is just how they are.” Stan shrugged. “I don’t teach the kids nothin’.”

“ _ Clearly _ .”

The stranger adjusted his hat. “Rest assured, gentlemen - the staircase is quite safe, if somewhat narrow. I’m afraid Linda here shall have to, once again, sit by the sidelines.” 

The large Bison grunted and tussled its thick mane, releasing a small battalion of horse flies into the air. 

“Thank goodness for that.” Ford whispered to his brother. “The thing stinks to high heaven.”

Stan barely even looked at his brother as he began ascending the staircase. “You can’t talk, Stanford. It’s been twenty years since you wore a different pair of boots.”

“I’ve explained this  _ before _ , Stan.” Ford shouted as he followed. “New boots are  _ not  _ easy to come by in other dimensions when you have flat feet! It isn’t the same thing and  _ you know it _ !”

The two disappeared into the narrow crevice of the cliff face, up the winding stairs to the innermost depths of the rocky outcrop.

The stranger paused, glanced out among the wilderness ahead of him, and took a deep breath. 

This hunt for his one-time ally was a tumultuous path, a journey he had been travelling upon for what felt like much of his life. His grand conclusion was nigh - and he was becoming increasingly confident that his merry band was the ultimate secret weapon. His new allies were smart, brave, proud and protective of one and other. A camaraderie and family connection he believed brought a strength. A strength beyond that of any army.

He couldn't help but wonder if he, surely America's most handsome and successful bachelor, had been missing out on such an adventure himself. 

No matter. There were larger stakes at hand. He adjusted his pince-nez and followed the family into his caverns. 

What might they find in the cliffs? He was unsure. His presumption and initiative - and he did almost exclusively function on the two - told him that there was little for them here. 

But he had to trace every lead. He had to hunt down that shadowy, multi-legged fiend before it chose another innocent soul to prey off of. Or less innocent soul, which, in itself, was only more threatening a concept. 

His eyes darted across the forest - before he closed the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must confess, I never expected to reach episode five in this little series, but it's becoming second nature to me, now!
> 
> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	11. The Tunnel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

Mabel and Pacifica reached the top of the staircase with far less stamina than they had entered. They hadn't particularly bothered counting those steps, but were pretty sure it was the worst thing  _ ever _ . 

They were greeted by a particularly odd grotto, deep inside the railroad tunnel that had once led to the famous Gravity Falls bridge - track still in situ, lit by railroad lamps and old equipment, the odd pump truck or handcart still laying abandoned on the rails and sidings within. 

"Whoa." 

Mabel was immediately enraptured by the warmly lit cave and its bizarre furnishings. Everything inside had been haphazardly put together from barrels, railroad cars and planks of wood. It looked like a rustic wonderland crossed with a tetanus nightmare, built of scrap iron and pine. 

Pacifica felt - well - uneasy. She still felt a little bit weirded out by anything relating to the Great Gravity Falls train wreck. Especially now that Dipper wasn't with her. 

Knowing that she basically walked on the floorboards every work day - the same that had crashed and burned over a hundred years ago - still made her feel a bit queasy when she thought about it. Made those feelings of her awkward meetings with Dipper fade back. Reminded her of that ghost in the Diner. Reminded her of the lengths her dad had been willing to go through to 'keep her'. 

She rubbed her arm and gulped as they strolled through the grotto, dearly wishing she had her boyfriend with her, even if it was just to be freaked out with her. 

Ford arrived and immediately started sketching, somewhat oblivious that the newest member of their troupe was feeling somewhat uncomfortable. It was, of course, Stan who was the more attentive. 

"Hey. You okay, blondie?" 

"I uh… I just miss Dip’. That's all."

Stan kneeled next to her and rubbed his chin. Pacifica kind of knew he didn't buy it. "Y'know, I used to freak out every time I walked where the zombies came from under the Shack, or if I found anything that belonged to shmuckface over there. You can be a tough broad and still get spooked, sweetie."

"Grunkle Stan?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Call me a broad  _ ever  _ again and I'll slap you."

"That's my girl." Stan grinned, opening his arms for a hug - which Pacifica gladly accepted. "You'll be back with Dippy in no time. I'll keep an eye peeled for ghosts, huh?"

"There are no ghosts here! Only the spirit of an age long gone!" The stranger proclaimed as he entered the cavern. "This is my home, my hunting headquarters! My paradise from the great unknown, built from the pioneering days of our fine town." 

Ford was enraptured. "You salvaged all of this?" 

"When the train wreck took place, the Gravity Falls Railroad Company crashed with it." the stranger replied. "It seems they never even bothered to empty their tunnels or work sites. Just boarded the place up and left it be. All of this has been undisturbed since 1883. A shame, too. I remember it being a fine enterprise.”

Ford rolled his eyes, still having fairly well justified doubts about the Stranger’s claims. “And how are the cliffs meant to help us in finding Cankerblight, exactly?”

“Cankerblight is fragile for as long as he doesn’t have a shell, my boy. He’ll be seeking a location of solace, somewhere distant where he can regrow and remanifest. If your young protege here managed to crush part of him with masonry, I’m willing to bet that he’ll need somewhere away from the public eye.”

The peaks of the Gravity Falls cliffs were well known as being ‘off limits’, even by the locals. It was a strange phenomenon of fear that lurked up there - the upper cliffs formed a similar bogeyman to the Hide Behind, the Bumblebeast or Steve. A mere mention by a hiker of visiting the rockface’s upper echelons - no matter how picturesque they were - was an occurrence always matched by the darkened glare of the town’s elders, and dire warnings of what may lurk there. Many similar bright eyed young men and women, taken under a curse of wanderlust, would disappear. 

There was a big chipboard at the police precinct where they collected names. Rumour has it that if two missing people had the same last name, the families would be sent a fruit basket.

Most sensible people just believed it was a case of so many being clumsy enough to fall off of them - but to a seasoned weirdness researcher, it was hard not to feel there could be something else up there.

Of course, the family of seasoned weirdness researchers had only been reunited for a year, and the last time they had been up there, it was Dipper chasing down Gideon-bot or freeing Mabel from some sort of hyper-active sugar-fever prison bubble. The older men made a point of avoiding it.

In any case, the empty, dispopulated nature of the place would make it a perfect place for the shadow creature to reinvigorate himself - to prepare for further insidious plans. 

“My belief, my fellows, is that Curzon is up there. Inside the clifftop forests. The most skyward, remote spot of our beloved town.”

“You want us to go up there?!” Stan snapped. “No way, hose! I’ve lived in this town for the best part of my life, pal. I don’t know much about the freaks living in the forest, but I know that there’s not a  _ single  _ person in town who’ll go into those clifftops. Weirdness or not, I ain’t goin’ up there. Nobody in all of Oregon would if they knew better.”

“Unless it’s my brother running after a giant robot that kidnapped me!” Mabel grinned.

“Exactly. Unless it’s to protect family.”

Pacifica blinked. Even after reading Journal 3, she was a bit weirded out every time Mabel brought up one of their past adventures. Dipper had written about them in pretty fair detail, but to know they actually happened to the twins was still a very odd concept to digest. 

Of course, it was also pretty odd to think that Dipper had written about there being a vibe between them at her house that night, or  _ her looking good in an evening dress, or the fact he had said she was more than a pretty face in The Crawl Space- _

She blushed and smiled, scraping her foot awkwardly, glancing at her phone. 

She sort of wondered why he hadn't text her. 

The stranger put an arm around Stan and sighed, melodramatically raising his shoulders. “I understand. But if Curzon is truly out there, my lad, think of this. Who, above all else, is he likely to target? Those that destroyed him. More specifically… this one.”

He pointed directly at Pacifica.

Her eyes widened, and she took a step back. “Uh… look, I don’t really wanna go somewhere dangerous-”

“Then you shouldn’t have taken on Cankerblight in the first place, madam. You and your family are targets. It’s practically your  _ duty  _ to get to him first.”

Great. More guilt. 

Pacifica rubbed her arm again awkwardly as she thought about the entire situation. She still wasn’t sure how trustworthy this somewhat erratic stranger was, and, by now, felt ashamed for even getting her family involved. This guy should have been brushed off and ignored in the first two minutes. Now they had been underground, sniffed a bison and had to climb, like, a thousand steps into an abandoned railway tunnel. And spoken to a goblin with a sugar fetish.

She was still dealing with the fact their last adventure had resulted in Dipper’s broken arm and the town’s mayor indulging in a good, old fashioned dose of trauma - let alone destroying The Crawl Space, blowing up an entire street - and, in the process, seemingly not even managing to put the hideous creature away for good. 

She huffed and adjusted her hair, fighting the urge to send another text to Dipper - and fighting her emotions back into silence.

"Look, I didn't ask for any of this, mister. Maybe we should give it up."

"I never give up. Nor does a member of the Pines family. Everybody in town knows that."

"Well then, maybe I should go by myself." Pacifica murmured. 

"Not a chance." Ford stepped up, as did Mabel and Stan. 

"We're in this together." said the older twin, firmly. "And we'll stick together."

"Besides, there's probably nothing up there." Mabel smiled. "Most of the monsters in town are pretty cool!" 

Pacifica smiled gratefully - though she was pretty sure every one of the Pines clan alongside her were absolutely crazy. She wanted to thank them incessantly for being the best family she’d ever had, thank them for being by her side and protecting her, thank them for-

"W-well, okay then."

_ Nailed it, Pacifica. _

The stranger beamed. Exactly as he had planned. Truth be told, he was no more certain what could be up there than the Pines. They could be stepping into the wild, aggressive jaws of the beast - the great unknown that had haunted the town for too long.  Or it could just be a wild, crazy goose chase...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must confess, I never expected to reach episode five in this little series, but it's becoming second nature to me, now!
> 
> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	12. The Frantic in his Natural Habitat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

Dipper had caught the fever - a familiar affliction he had been down with last summer, focusing, this time, on frantic research regarding a very specific anomaly.

It had hit him like the 1938 Gravity Falls confectioner’s sugar blizzard (perhaps a story for another time.) 

It was a wild flurry of information, a burst of energy and genuine fascination, the exact sort of thing that Dipper absolutely  _ thrived  _ on. He felt like he was having the time of his life. He leaned into the PC, sipping a soda and typing away wildly, piling through Ford’s textbooks at record speeds -, threw himself into familiar forums dedicated to his fellow Conspiracy obsessives and cryptid researchers - browsed search engines and their satellite imagery. 

He had even stuck himself into the junky cryptid magazines Ford had collected when he was younger. They were terrible, but you never knew when something useful was printed in  **_Shaky Camera Monthly_ ** and  **_‘Squatch Watch_ ** . 

He was on the path, he was certain, of Ford’s greatest missed discovery.

“This is incredible!” He shouted, zooming into the map. He even put rather neglected glasses on, just to improve his chances of spotting that tiniest spot of evidence. “Can you believe this? Look at it! Look, those four or five pixels are evidence!”

Waddles cocked his head and glanced at Dipper’s screen disinterestedly, chewing on a nearby length of rope.

“If only you were smart enough to understand how monumental this is, Waddles. This is crazy! I could be surpassing my Grunkle Ford - making my own discovery at last! A decent video of this could have us set for life! Imagine the views! The sponsorships!”

He grabbed Waddles by the side and shook him. “Think of the  _ ad revenue _ !!”

The pig grunted and let himself fall onto the floor, rolling in Dipper’s piles of paper, magazines and notes. Dipper couldn’t help but feel incredulous at the fact he was now talking to the  _ pig _ , but all great minds worked best solitarily, right?

He figured Pacifica would be a little freaked out by the mere suggestion of what he was looking for. This was _beyond_ weird. This was medieval-style _mythological_ weird, and it made him sweat with excitement.

Not that making Dipper sweat was a particularly difficult task, of course, but hey. It was thrilling him. His hands shook as he zoomed into those pixels, did every basic image editing trick in the book, desperately searched for ‘how to make blurry images less blurry’ - It was a complex operation.

He was utterly convinced he had been reinvented into a super-hacker, a super-elite explorer who could properly investigate the slightest detail, and make an informed decision. This wasn’t just Dipper the researcher, he was Dipper the  _ scientist _ . 

Dipper the Scientist about to have the biggest discovery of his life. All of his own.

The fact that it was simply something nobody had ever bothered to look up - that was neither here nor there. This was  _ Dipper’s  _ great discovery. He printed off his fourteenth map and pinned it into his clipboard, taking down coordinates of every bizarre sighting, until…

“Bingo. That’s it!”

He pinpointed his perfect location. The one spot in all of the state where he was most likely to make his discovery. The one part of Gravity Falls where all locals fear to tread. He rubbed his hands together and tried to hold his excitement.

He did a dorky little dance in his chair as he started pulling down his research into a folder - then his phone vibrated. 

**Paz: Hey. How come you haven’t texted?  
** **Dip: Sorry, I’ve been researching stuff  
Paz: Dork!   
Dip: Heh  
** **Paz: This guy’s got a weird lair inside the railroad tunnel  
Dip: What the hell?  
Paz: Yeah, he wants to go up to the clifftops. Thinks Curzon is up there**

Dipper blinked. 

**Dip: The clifftops? That’s pretty dangerous  
Paz: I know, but we’ll be fine ok? No need to worry about me  
** **Dip: No, Paz, seriously, don’t go up there!  
** **Paz: Pacifica  
** **Dip: I mean it, just come back to the shack already! Seriously!  
Paz: We’ll be fine, chill out! I’ll be back soon. I love you!**

Oh no. _Oh nonono, this was bad._

Dipper looked back to his charts, every pin and every string leading to the centre of the Gravity Falls floating clifftops, his eyes wide and his age-old anxiety beginning to flair.

He grabbed a length of rope, one of the spare grappling hooks, a harpoon gun from Ford’s supply box and a can of Pitt for the road. He wasn’t going to let his family come to harm. And was a bit reluctant to let his grand discovery go to waste, too.

But first…

**Dip: I love you too. A lot. I’ll see you soon!**

_ Priorities _ .

..Was the ‘a lot’ a bit too desperate? Damn. He didn’t want to seem too desperate. He had to tone it down, he wasn’t… like… neurotic or anything. He held his phone for an uncomfortably long time and cringed, wondering if Pacifica would return with some sort of disparaging joke or sarcastic jab towards him.

When it never came, he finally opted to make his move. 

He had a Mystery Buggy to borrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must confess, I never expected to reach episode five in this little series, but it's becoming second nature to me, now!
> 
> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	13. Gravity's Peak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

The corridor to the cliff tops from that railroad grotto was every bit as steep and unpleasant as the ascent up to the tunnel had been - if not more so, thanks to the certain element of fear and trepidation that was ruling over Pacifica’s mind. 

What could possibly be so weird up on top of the cliffs to make it  _ more  _ dangerous than walking down the high street? She felt pretty confident in her company, of course, but it did raise a few… uh… concerns. There were only a few things Pacifica saw as freakier than the possibility of Curzon being there, most of which involved giant spiders or Dipper’s internet history. To have the  _ practically fearless _ Stan Pines so vehemently protest was a bit startling.

Of course, Stan had little to worry about, besides his somewhat prodigious shoulders fitting through the narrow stairwell. He was more than capable of protecting himself. Pacifica didn't feel the same way about her chances.

She hesitated - only for Mabel to shove her gently. Why had Dipper been so concerned about them going there? What had he been researching? Why was he so… reluctant to text her? 

The stranger gave his ever-enthusiastic tour - mostly explaining where his lanterns had come from, unusual rocks he had found, that time he picked up a piece of dirt that bore a striking resemblance to Thomas Jefferson…

The family listened with dwindling enthusiasm as the cracks of light finally appeared above them, from the seams of a wooden trapdoor.

"So you go up there often?" Stan asked, accidentally cutting off the stranger's lecture about what insects make good toothpaste. 

"Eh? Oh, no, not very often. Only to catch birds for a roast dinner, mostly for a lark. Or pigeon. Or swan. Hahaha!" 

"I don't get it."

  
  


The stranger creaked open the trapdoor and glanced out, scanning his surroundings, before clambering into the grass and scuttling behind a tree. 

The others followed with far less theatrics or stealth. 

"I never thought life would lead me up here, I can tell ya." Stan sighed, adjusting his collar nervously. "Be on the lookout, kids."

Ford crouched down to examine the almost entirely untouched flora. "I had intended to run an expedition here until Cipher took over. It's as unspoilt now as it seemed to be then." 

Mabel was busy snapping photos left, right and centre while Pacifica quietly - nervously - looked around them. 

It felt rather foolish to be  _ too _ concerned. The cliff tops were an impressive plateau - practically an Eden of nature. Long, soft grass that smelt refreshing and sweet, scattered with butterflies, mushrooms and flowers. Towering, majestic pine trees and tumbledown fences marking where people - at least once before - had been. 

The air was fresh, cool and bracing - a natural, soft atmosphere refrained by twittering birds and the breeze flowing through branches. 

Only a sign, written in less than calligraphic, unsettlingly  _ red _ letters marked the danger Stan had proclaimed. 

**_BEWARE_ **

**_DO NOT ENTER THE WOODS_ **

**_THE BEASTS LURK WITHIN_ **

Pacifica winced at the sight of it.  _ Beasts _ .  _ Plural _ ? What kind of beasts would erupt that level of fear? 

"What do you think it means?" Pacifica murmured. 

"Pacifica, this place is like… SuUuUuper old and abandoned. It's probably just a bear or something. Remember the multibear? He was pretty neat!" 

"He borrowed my phone and took 45 selfies, but sure. He was fine. He also doesn't live up here."

A rustling came from deep within the trees - louder, more urgent than what came before it. A cracking of branches. 

The two kids stepped back and raised an eyebrow, the Grunkles running up behind them, ready to take charge. 

The stranger marched past the sign nonchalantly and peered into the tightly packed space of trees and pine needles, his pointed nose twitching as he took deep breaths of the air ahead of him. 

A wide smile became clear upon his beshadowed face. "Come, fellow explorers. That rustling is nothing to be afraid of.”

Ford lowered his eyebrows. “You’ll excuse us for being somewhat pessimistic.” 

“I will. But trust me. I’ve not led you astray so far.”

“That’s a bit up to debate.” 

“Where’s your adventurer’s spirit, Stanford? I thought you’d like making discoveries.”

“Not at the risk of the kids.”

“Then trust me; there’s no risks ahead. See for yourself.”

Ford rolled his shoulders, cracked his twelve knuckles and followed the stranger’s beckoning cautiously, stepping up to the treeline and taking a look for himself. There, in the densely packed glades and forests, shuffling through the deep layers of moss and vegetation, were several pairs of beady, black eyeball, gazing - with a certain, vacuous expression - at the men ahead of them. 

“My god.” Ford murmured, peering over his spectacles. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

“I’ve never seen so many…”

“What? What is it?!” shouted Mabel, running to the trees - being confronted with a haunting, if elegant sight. 

_ Geese _ .

Hundreds, and hundreds of geese. Wildfowl with long necks and wide wingspans, somewhat larger than they might expect for the area. In the centre of the glad there was a small lake, wildly overpopulated and connected to a mountain spring, fed by a gentle waterfall.

Blossoming trees surrounded it, peppered with large, purple fruits - not unlike peaches or plums - and small flowers, petals floating into the water amongst the elegant, perfectly preened aviary.

Even Pacifica’s eyes widened as they took in the sheer, unspoilt majesty before them. It was beautiful. It felt like a bizarre glimpse into a storybook, the glistening limestone of the waterfall flowing the perfectly clear water into that soft, babbling brook that fed the locale of trees, fruit and colourful shocks of wild flower. 

The family fell silent as they slowly drew closer towards the relatively docile birds. 

“Strange.” Ford mumbled. 

“Huh?”

“Well, Stanley, look… they’re all fully grown. No goslings. Just fully grown birds.”

“Probably nesting somewhere else.”

“Where?! We’re on the top of a cliff, there’s barely space either side of the lake!”

“I ‘unno, Sixer. I’m not an orthodontist.” 

“You mean ornithologist.”

“Whatever.”

Right enough, Pacifica noticed the same oddity. Every bird was handsome, fully plumed and fully grown, slightly outsized but remaining sleek and perfectly proportionate. One of them approached her and cocked its head, honking softly. 

She… wasn’t enormously fond of geese. 

The Northwest heir backed away nervously and looked to Mabel, who was busy throwing gummi koalas for them to eat, something the feathered creatures indulged in with great gusto. 

“How are you okay with this? Geese are vicious!”

“Naw, they’re just little fluffy sweethearts.”

“They’re nearly as big as you!”

“And I’m little too!” Mabel beamed, one of the geese promptly snatching the bag from her hands. “You go, goose friend! I’m going to call you flappers!”

Ford had found another oddity in the fauna and flora that surrounded them - the fruit that was hanging from the curious trees that looped and twirled in gnarled, rich, brown bark. Each fruit seemed strangely outsized, roughly equal to the breadth of his six-fingered fist. 

Their flesh was soft and smooth, gently flocked in small, white hairs. 

“I’ve never seen a fruit like this before.” He said to himself, quietly.

Then, to his shock, it began to squirm. He dropped it and instinctively stepped back with the rest of the family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must confess, I never expected to reach episode five in this little series, but it's becoming second nature to me, now!
> 
> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	14. Ballad of the Tree Goose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

“Long ago, before migratory patterns were understood, many medieval communities believed that certain geese came from trees - fully grown, fully formed, born from fruit and vegetables. They thought the birds just… burst from the trees, and flew into the nearest waterway, pond or river. 

It was a piece of folklore in most Civilised countries for centuries. Of course, to them, it seemed like a natural conclusion. Fruit has seasons of growth and disappears in winter, just like the geese.

It’s been discredited for practically as long as we’ve understood the seasons. I never, once, thought that we’d ever see them exist, let alone on a clifftop in Oregon. I never bothered to research it. Who would?”

“And you didn’t think to tell us about that little story  _ why _ ?!” Stan snapped at his brother.

Ford’s eyebrows lowered, the empty fruit skin hanging alongside him, dripping with purple liquid. “Who the hell would believe in the idea of a bird coming out of a fruit?! It’s not the 1200s, Stanley, you’ll excuse me if I’m taken  _ somewhat _ by surprise!”

“Where the hell do you think we are, genius?! This is Gravity Falls!”

“You  _ seriously  _ blame me for this?!”

“I just saw a swan come out of a purple peach! I’m freakin’ the  **_hell_ ** out, Ford!” The two flinched as another bright, white goose burst from an adjacent fruit, splashing thick, purple membrane onto Stan. He immediately started yelling inarticulately, trying to flick the violet goop from his fingers. 

Pacifica stared in awe at the near constant flow of fresh beaks and feathers, bursting into the air from those pendulous plums with vigour. She was pretty sure this  _ wasn't _ what she had learnt in Northwest Biology class and it  _ kind of freaked her out _ to see giant honking birds come out of fruit skins.

For the stranger, this seemed far less impressive - and far less bizarre - a sight. “Isn’t it glorious? By thunder, the goose shortage of 1832 would have solved itself!”

“You knew about this?!” Ford replied, beginning to raise his voice.   


“Well.. no. I don’t explore up here very often. I mean, what, you think I’m crazy?” The trenchcoat-addled stranger refuted.   


“Frankly, now that you ask-”

“Come, fellows, we should leave this beautiful work of nature to its ways.”

“This is  **_not_ ** a work of nature!” Ford snapped. “This goes beyond a standard work of weirdness, it rewrites every damned biological fact!”

Mabel rolled her eyes and tapped her feet as the two Grunkles bickered with the stranger. It was fair to say that they had lost a bit of their rational thought by the complete lack of rationality in what they had just seen. She couldn’t help but find it a  _ little  _ bit amusing that it had taken goose-fruit to cause such a sudden conflict.

“Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford, I get it. This is pretty weird. But how about you argue with textbooks later, and, for now, we focus on why we’re here!” 

Ford glanced at Mabel, back at Stan, then at the wide eyed Pacifica - and took a deep breath. “You’re right, sweetie.”

Stan sighed and held the bridge of his nose, before giving a wide smile. “She always is.”

“Obviously.” Mabel winked.

“...But I don’t see Curzon anywhere.” Pacifica said quietly. “I’m not sure if there’s even anything here for us to look at...besides…”

**_SPLUTCH_ **

Another goose flew out of a purple fruit, splattering Stan - once again - in the vicious, sticky liquid.

“...Y’know. That.” 

  
  


It was then that the stranger pranced out of the trees enthusiastically, his eyes widened in surprise rather than their usual manic eccentricity. “Take a look at this! Follow me!”

Ford sighed. “What now?”

“If you follow me, you’ll find out - come, come! If you like an anomaly, this is a  _ real  _ anomaly. This is beyond the ordinary tree goose!”

The family reluctantly followed - somewhat troubled by the idea of there now being an  _ ordinary  _ standard for a tree goose. 

“This is impossibly bizarre. I thought the man was mad, but who  _ would  _ be sane in a forest like  _ this _ ?”

“Na, he’s always been like this!” Mabel chimed in. 

“If you know who he is, you should tell us, Mabel.” Ford replied, somewhat impatiently. 

“It’s a surprise!” 

“I’m growing a little tired of surprises.”

“You’ll LURVE this one!” The hyperactive Pines twin beamed confidently.  


  
  


Pacifica paused and looked out over the impressive vista of Gravity Falls, the sheer beauty - if bizarre nature - of the tree-goose forest and its lake, those gently splashing brooks and waterfalls that fed the larger waterfalls below - where people lived in innocence without knowledge of those strange, fruity birds.

The place, for all of its strangeness, was one of pure peace. One of isolation. 

She wished Dipper was there with her. It felt… romantic, somehow. Like being among nature was kind of… a part of her. Perhaps it was the fact she had spent so long by now living in the shack - perhaps it was a natural intrigue in the town that their recent adventures had raised in her. 

All she knew is that, for a short while, she did something Pacifica Northwest had never really managed to do. Something she’d never really considered doing. She took a few moments by herself, just to admire the beauty of the region she was named after. 

She inhaled deeply and exhaled through her mouth, taking in that fresh Oregon air and spending a moment just… doing nothing. Examining her own thoughts - only to be startled out of it by another purple-plastered goose swooping by her head, prompting a shout of surprise and her practically jumping out of her skin. 

She turned on her heel and ran after the rest of the group.

_ Perhaps there’s a better time for meditation. Figures. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to point out that the Tree Goose is a very real piece of folklore. In fact, if you weren't aware, so was Pascoe the Cornish Knocker from earlier!
> 
> With huge thanks to Kyo, my beloved fiancee, for proofing and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	15. Hot Pursuit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

The golf buggy’s engine screamed as Dipper pushed it to the limit, rattling up the steep hill to the Gravity Falls cliffs. He was pretty relieved that Soos had souped the damned thing up - even if it still barely managed to reach the brow, spitting layers of vegetation, ground cover and pine needles skywards as the wheels spun against the increasingly harsh gradient. 

“Come on! Come on!” He shouted in frustration, landing his fist on the dashboard, momentarily drowning out the constant drone of _Straight Blanchin,_ something that Soos had apparently got on repeat in the vehicle’s music system. 

To his surprise, that punch caused the glove box to fall open, revealing poorly affixed - and faultily wired - button and a handwritten label:

_PRESS 4 BOOST, DAWG_

He grimaced and - for only a moment - hesitated, giving the golf cart just enough time to begin slipping into reverse. 

“Damn it, Soos! Fine!” Dipper jabbed the button and waited for the inevitable, expecting the entire thing to blow skywards - only for the golf cart to receive a sudden nitrous-fuelled boost of power in its miniscule petrol engine, shooting it upwards with ease and overheating the exhaust to an inhuman degree as a thin streak of flame burst from the buggy’s motor. 

Dipper screamed as the cart practically took off from ground level, flying through the forest floor with a rattle that threatened to shake his shoulders out of their sockets. 

Finally, as the Mystery Buggy hit the final, steepest face of the hill, it flew vertically, a thin trail of vapour and exhaust streaking behind it, flinging itself and its driver a good forty feet into the air in an enormous arc.

Of course, what comes up must come down...

Down on the forest floor, it was perfectly tranquil. A gentle breeze flowed through the strands of soft, green grass, bumblebees and bunny rabbits exploring the area in complete, natural bliss. The twittering of brightly coloured birds and the gentle knocking of woodpeckers the only break to the tranquil silence of the world around them. 

There was only one, very large object that seemed so strange and unworldly that even the animals seemed to cast it a second glance.

It was exactly this that the Pines were shocked to be confronted by.

“Behold.” The stranger said, beckoning towards his discovery with a rathermore hushed, reverential tone. 

“Ohmigosh.” Mabel mumbled, clapping her hands over her mouth. 

There, before them, sat a goose fruit very similar to what they had seen down the clearing - but, instead, several times the size. Taller than Stan, taller than Fords, taller than the branch of the tree it had been growing on. Every fault or dent in the fruit’s skin was practically the size of the teenagers stood ahead of it, the gentle coating of fur more like that of a thick, sheepskin rug. 

The smell was overly sweet, a gentle trail of slick, sticky purple mucus leaking from the occasional puncture or bruise in the enormous fruit’s jacket. The entire thing was fed by thin leaf veins, scattering across from the limb of the ordinary sized tree beside it.

An observant fellow would be able to see the gentle pulsating, the soft heartbeat of the enormous pot ringing out in a dull, repetitive thud that sloshed and guggled. 

It was an odd thing to confront - equal parts grotesque and horrifying as it was enthralling and awe-inspiring, with a scattered colour scheme of reds and purples.

It reminded Pacifica of a story she had read as a child; _Jimmy and the Oversized Cucumber_ \- it made her worry that a fleet of jolly, tea drinking insects would come out and take her on a trip to New York.

It sounded worse than torture. She pulled Mabel back a few steps, insisting they both keep their distance from the leviathan produce in front of them. 

  
  


“It hasn’t fallen from the tree.” The stranger mumbled. “It’s over ripened.” 

“I-i-is there a giant goose in there?!” Pacifica stammered. 

“I don’t know.” he replied. “But if there is, it must be the largest bird in the world. A **_Gooseliath_ **.” 

Ford adjusted his glasses. “It could well be dead.” 

Mabel gasped fearfully. “No! Nonono! Don’t say that!”

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but it’s the truth. You can’t expect it to _survive_ in there, it could have been there for years.”

“But-”

Pacifica held Mabel’s shoulder and furrowed her brow. “But it _could_ be _fine_ , couldn’t it, _Ford_?”

“He’s just cynical, hun.” Stan smiled, interrupting Ford as quickly as he could. “Besides, we’re not going to open the thing up.”

“That is definitely true.” Ford laughed. “It’d be insane to open it. We don’t know what could be in there.”

Pacifica tapped on her phone as the others marvelled at the thing, Mabel's attention at least momentarily withdrawn from the potential, morbid circumstances of the creature within.

 **Paz: You won’t believe what we’ve just found** **  
****Paz: This is freaking insane** **  
****Paz: ...Dip?** **  
****Paz: …** **  
****Paz: Helloooo…?**

She was suddenly aware of a distant screaming. It sounded like a particularly prissy, effeminate scream, hurtling closer and closer towards them, coupled with the high pitched whining of an engine, whistling wind and… 

_A very vague sound of Lil’ Bigg Dawggg._

She looked up and stared, her jaw agape, as the familiar silhouette of the buggy plummeted towards them - or, more worryingly, towards that gigantic fruit. 

“Getoutofthewaygetoutofthewaygetoutoftheway!!!” Dipper yelled at the top of his voice, honking the golf cart’s horn repeatedly. 

This, arguably, was his first mistake, prompting a series of geese eagerly returning the honks and moving towards the source of the noise. 

The second mistake - though, in fairness, one that Dipper was far less culpable for - was the golf cart landing directly atop that enormous, pulsating fruit with a dull, springy thump, the vehicle cutting out immediately, with the unmistakable sense of broken plastic and fractured metal, nuts and bolts flying from its undercarriage. 

The fruit’s skin shook in a ripple, throwing Dipper from the cart and directly onto Pacifica, sending them both rolling across the floor and coming to a rest with their noses touching. 

Pacifica stared, her skin flushed in a bright red. 

Dipper blinked awkwardly, a trickle of sweat travelling down his forehead as he laid there, practically paralysed with shock and embarrassment. This… wasn’t the heroic entrance he had hoped for. “Aheh. Hey.”

“H-hi…” came her stammered response, Pacifica staring blankly, covered in grass stains, with pupils like saucers. “Are uh… are you okay?”

  
  


Their momentary - and particularly awkward - encounter was broken very swiftly by the sound of what could only be interpreted as danger. It had occurred before Mabel had even prepared her polaroid camera to catch the embarrassing moment. 

The golf cart, cut out by the impact though it had been, was not clamped with the handbrake. Slowly, it began to roll down the skin of the fruit. Typically, this would have been of little consequence. 

However, this was discounting that scalding hot - and bent out of shape - exhaust pipe, which cut through the fruit’s skin like a red hot knife as the vehicle slipped down its surface, slitting open the enormous berry with ease, and opening a large gash in its front.

“Get out of here! All of you, scatter!” the stranger bellowed at the top of his voice.

They scrambled up, grabbed eachother’s hand. Dipper grabbed Mabel with his other hand and yanked her away eagerly, leaving the Grunkles standing firm. 

“Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford!” Mabel yelled. 

“Get out of here, kids! We’ll see to it, okay? Shake those damned hams!” Stan shouted back.

Ford yelled much the same, darkly, whipping one of his tasers from his trenchcoat - prepared to take on the beast. 

Pacifica, Mabel and Dipper flung themselves into hiding in a thick bush, and stared as the fruit slowly slipped open along that gigantic gash, releasing a flood of purple membrane that poured into the mountain spring. 

  
  


Now, stood in the fruit’s place, stood a creature of incredible proportions - with a long neck, enormous wings, and a gigantic pair of glossy, black eyes. 

A black, webbed foot slipped through the now soft, turgid flesh of the fruit, stomping down onto the Mystery buggy and pushing it into the floor with a cataclysmic, fracturing thud that caused the trees to shake and the water to ripple. 

_Am I blanchin',  
Girl we blanchin',  
I live up in a mans- _ **_CRUNCH!_ **

The Grunkles stared. The stranger gazed up in wonderment. 

The teenagers could scarcely believe their senses. 

Right enough, with flying feathers and a deathly black beak - rowed in those creepy little teeth that only a goose could maintain, the creature stood.

Horrifyingly large. Terrifyingly harsh in its glare - if somewhat vacant and confused.

There it was. No mere tree goose. No mere anomaly. 

It was **_The Gooseliath_**. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hereby declare Gooseliath to be the most terrifying villain of my literary career.
> 
> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	16. Attack of the Sixty Foot Tree Goose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

The giant goose took another few waddling, lumbering steps, its head cocking as it adjusted to its new surroundings - the bird’s plumage gently fluffing out as it dried in the mountain breeze.

The wild animals nearby fled as the Gooseliath flapped its tail feathers and took another enormous, quake-inducing step. It paused, craned back its head, and produced an enormous, deafening Honk of such magnitude that it caused waves in the nearby lake. 

The two Grunkles - and the stranger - stood their ground. Steadfast, if not secretly completely and utterly terrified.

“Okay. We stay calm.” Ford mumbled. “It’ll probably remain docile if we don’t bother it.”

“It’s a  _ goose _ , Ford. Not a  _ wasp _ . A giant goose that just came out of a plum. I don’t know about you, but I was just about prepared for everything  _ but  _ a giant goose that just came out of a plum!!”

“Look, we have to approach this rationally. What reason does it have to attack us?”

“The fact that our Nephew just landed a golf cart on its damned head?!”

“I mean, the head? It was inside that fruit. It could have been-”

Stan glared at him. Ford just shrugged and nodded in submissal. Perhaps semantics for another time.

The gooseliath bowed its head to get a closer look at the stranger, who promptly put up his dukes in a somewhat laughable impression of a period boxer - causing the beaked animal to only grow more curious of the man stood before it. 

“Bring it on! I did six lessons at the MacAskill School of Self Defence and I have no qualms punching an outsized Christmas roast!” 

“For pity’s sake, get away from the thing, you fool!” Ford bellowed - but it was too late.

Within the space of only a moment, the stranger had firmly planted a bony fist into the chin - whatever passed as the chin when it came to an animal with a beak - of the great beast. The goose recoiled. It paused, trying to focus its eyes on the source of sudden impact - and squared immediately on the man in the boxer's stance. 

The stranger dropped his fists and cautiously took a step back - but, by this time, the gooseliath had decided upon retaliation. 

The impossibly huge creature bowed its head and hissed in a storm of pure fury; releasing so much avian phlegm and foul, goosey breath that it sent the stranger flying backwards into the Grunkles.

Gooseliath bellowed in another horrific honk - one, this time, that was loud enough to be heard in the middle of Gravity Falls’ town centre, rocks and debris falling from the clifftops as that voluminous birdcall echoed across the valley.

  
  


Mabel stared from the safety of their bush, her eyes wide. “I’m not sure if this is the most awesome or scariest thing we’ve ever seen.”

Dipper nodded absently, his mouth agape. 

"I know which I vote for." Pacifica replied, shakily. Her hatred of geese was not letting up. She found herself cowering from the sight of that enormous, black beaked creature, its beady eyes still eagerly scanning the surroundings.

Of course it could be argued that there was nothing particularly irrational about hiding from the eyes of a sixty foot tall, aggressive bird that had just been expunged by vegetation - but she did feel a  _ little _ silly considering their rather more pedestrian experience of ghosts, ghouls and paranormal activity. 

Did a giant bird count as supernatural? It was fair to say the otherwise rather docile creature didn't seem unusual - apart from its ridiculous size and even more ridiculous manner of being born. 

It didn't like, breathe fire or anything. She  _ hoped _ . 

The ongoing commotion of the Gooseliath had a certain effect that hadn’t occurred to any of the human interlopers. The sound of idle flapping on the lake and brook had ceased, and, now, seemed far more coordinated. Far more quiet. Far more directed.

The other geese from the lake began to peek heads through the foliage, and, to the horror of the kids, made a beeline for their natural leader. 

Pacifica stared, scrambling backwards in fear as the waddling army ambled past, circling around the gooseliath without the slightest acknowledgement of the humans nearby. They all wiggled their tail feathers as they stared up at their natural leader.

The alpha goose. The king goose. The goose emperor.

There was no doubt about it in the Grunkles’ minds, they were  _ organising themselves.  _ They glanced at eachother, nodded, and started to make their departure - stepping back from the scene as quietly as they could, the Stranger following them eagerly. 

The gooseliath watched, glared… then honked at the top of his voice. Once again, an echo and a rumble echoed across the valley. And the geese  _ listened _ . They gathered into a square formation ahead of their leader, and began to march.

_ Now. Now it seemed supernatural.  _

“Remarkable.” Ford muttered, peering over the frame of his glasses. “In all of my years, I-”

“Do any of you have a plan?” Pacifica stammered, growing increasingly frantic and uncomfortable as the menacing, befeathered battalion drew closer. She was pretty sure she’d had this nightmare a few times. 

Dipper and Mabel peaked over at the advancing army of beaks and feathers, webbed feet slapping against the floor, almost in perfect unison, their beady, black eyes fixed ahead - and the alpha gooseliath waddling behind them, as if guiding them through unspoken direction. 

The stranger pulled his collar and winced. “I don’t suppose anybody happens to have a sixty foot loaf of bread?”

Stan rolled his eyes, losing patience with the stranger for every minute that he had to spend with him. “If you don’t shut your yap, I’ll wire it shut myself!”

The stranger turned his head. “You know, I’ve  _ sensed  _ a certain hostility throughout this adventure.”

“No kiddin’!” Stan replied, bristling with frustration. “You’re a complete loon!”

"Don't you know who I am?!" 

Ford stood up and snapped. "We  _ don't _ know who you are! That's why we find your behaviour so confusing!" 

The stranger stood up straight and placed his hands on his hips. “My friends, I am, in fact, none other than-”

“Quentin Trembley.” Dipper and Mabel interrupted him in a particularly unimpressed monotone.

“AhHA!” Quentin shouted, flipping off his trenchcoat to reveal his finest velvet pantaloons. “Quentin Trembley himself! In the flesh!”

Ford, Pacifica and Stan all blinked and glanced at eachother incredulously. The charismatic reveal had very quickly fizzled out for the long-lost president. 

“I have reinvented myself since our last escapade, Dipper, my lad! In fact, you two had such an impact on me that I have almost an entire year roaming this country’s merry lands, hunting strange beasts, much like yourselves.”

“Wait. Wait, I’m sorry,  _ who  _ are you?” Pacifica asked.

“I… have no idea who Quentin Trembley is.” Ford added. 

Dipper’s face fell even further than it already had, one eyebrow raised high in confusion. Pacifica almost instantly wished she hadn’t asked. 

“You’ve both read my writing, haven’t you?” Dipper asked - sounding surprisingly hurt by the prospect of them not being thorough with him and his sister’s escapades. 

“I mean, yeah, most of it.” Pacifica smiled, awkwardly - giving a bit of a shrug as she continued scrambling back from the birds. “I mean, some of the pages were stuck together.”

Ford peered over the hedge as he spoke, increasingly cautious of overexposition - considering the swathe of beasts approaching them. “Same here. Some sort of butterscotch candy.”

  
  


Dipper glared at Mabel, who pretended to look away and scratched her head awkwardly. 

“Look, I uh… that was the day we kind of humiliated Pacifica… I didn’t really want her to be able to relive it-”

“We weren’t a  _ thing  _ then, Mabel.” Dipper replied through gritted teeth.

“Please,  _ everyone  _ knew it was going to happen.”

“You’ve been trying to matchmake us for that long?!”

“I’m pretty good at foresight.”

“You’re the  _ worst  _ at foresight!”

“Pf, I don’t tell you everything I foresee.” Mabel pouted, crossing her arms. 

“...Aw…” Pacifica slapped her hands over her mouth, hoping desperately that nobody had heard. 

It only made her feel a little more guilty about how much of a jerk she had been. For all of her silliness, for all of her… nonsensical logic, Mabel  _ was  _ genuinely pretty caring and really… not the sort to hold a grudge.

She had never really spent that much time with her, and it… kind of felt a bit jarring to realise how little Mabel held anything against the town’s horribly selfish, rude and arrogant rich girl. She just treated Pacifica like anybody else, even with their… troublesome past. 

She was genuinely just… a really good hearted teen. A friend. 

In a dumb, kind of crazy sort of way that included trying to squeeze her and Dipper together since the second they had ever even  _ met _ . 

Quentin remained in his proud, revelatory stance, one foot raised on the back of a passing goose, his swaths of brown, peanut scented hair flickering in the wind. It would have been impressive - until that very goose began honking repeatedly, warning the oncoming army. 

The president looked down at his winged footrest and jumped backwards. “What on Earth?”

"Th-that’s a scout. It’s a scout goose." Pacifica gulped, becoming increasingly resigned to their fate at the hands - uh - feathers? Of the wild birds, her hands shaking. 

_ What a way to go.  _

“You can all explain later.” Ford said. “That includes  _ you _ , Quentin. For now, we need to work out how we fight off a hundred geese.”

Quentin beamed. “In my travels, I have found many useful things. No doubt I have a secret weapon against those feathered fiends…”

There was a pause.

“...Can somebody pick up my trenchcoat for me? My back appears to have cramped.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	17. The Secret Weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

Quentin shuffled through his trenchcoat's pockets eagerly, throwing all manner of debris, shrapnel and butterscotch candy as he rifled through his suspiciously large collection of odds and ends. 

Electrical parts, pipes, nuts, bolts, a mace, a miniature replica of the Chrysler building and a jar full of crickets were all part of his hoarded junk, each resting in front of the confused Pines family as he continued his search with reckless abandon. 

Out of his left breast pocket, a shard flew out and wedged into the floor at Dipper's feet. A familiar, glassy substance in the shape of an elongated diamond, carrying a delicate bi-colour hue. 

Dipper's sharp mind immediately cottoned onto it. "Quentin, this is perfect!" 

"Eh?" 

"You have a shard of size-altering crystal!” He grinned, holding up the chunk of the rare gem. “If we shrink down the giant goose, the rest of the army might go back to being like… normal geese.”

"Oh. I was going to construct a bird call that encouraged them to walk off of the cliff."

“Like lemmings!” Mabel piped in enthusiastically.

Ford figured it was best not to bother correcting Mabel on animal behaviour. After all, they had just seen geese being laid by a tree. 

“That sounds.. Incredibly convoluted, Quentin.” Dipper replied, not carrying the same amount of enthusiasm as his sister. 

“ _That’s_ what they said about maple syrup.”

The family decided not to pursue that plan - or bizarrely irrelevant point of conversation - any further. Mabel made a mental note to ask later; she was _all about_ learning the history of Maple Syrup. 

“Hey, wait a sec - don’t we need a flashlight or something?” She asked. “Y’know, to do the crystal magic?”

Dipper’s face dropped. “Y-yeah. We do.”

Pacifica and Dipper - to their horror - found that they had managed to exhaust their phone batteries by texting so much, while Mabel’s photography hobby had drained hers by 11 that morning. 

Ford and Stan hadn’t really considered the idea of their phones having flashlights. Or needing to be plugged in. They tended to treat theirs as paperweights. In any sense, they were currently occupied by punching and kicking the ever-advancing troupe of waterfowl out of the vicinity.

Dipper grew more and more anxious as he frantically tried to trick his cellphone into turning on, failing each time. "What do we do? What do we do?! We need a light source!" 

Mabel didn't even have any candy to distract them. It was developing into a pretty messy circumstance. 

Pacifica squirmed. She had an idea but felt… Pretty reluctant to speak up, as per usual. This wasn't her thing. It just _wasn't_. She wasn't comfortable being one of these nerdy monster hunters! 

She was Pacifica, not Mabel or Dipper. 

She should stay quiet, really-

"What are the chances that the headlights on the cart are still working?”

Nevermind. She said it. There was a pause, the family turning to her as she shrunk back and pretended she hadn't said a word. It was still a bit new to her, having family _listen_ to her. 

“I could kiss you!” Dipper laughed, throwing his arms around her. “That’s an amazing idea!”

She blushed and smiled, holding her boyfriend with more than a generous touch of gratitude. “I won’t stop you. But... maybe wait until you’ve tried it.”

Dipper froze. “Wait. Me?”

“You did _technically_ free the thing, Dipper." Ford said, taking the role of the responsible guardian - something which, compared to Stan, he was pretty competent at. "What were you even _doing_ coming up here? You were told to stay at home!”

He pointed at Dipper’s cast accusingly. 

Dipper tried - in vain - to pull his t-shirt’s sleeve down over it. “I uh…”

Ford and Stan both glared at the increasingly sheepish Dipper. It was, after all, one thing to be given an ordinary stern look - a Grunkle stern look was a pretty intense experience in comparison. Their bushy grey eyebrows lowered, their faces unflinching, arms crossed…

Dipper cringed. “Look, I just thought-”

Ford interrupted him. “You can explain later. And you _will_.”

Dipper huffed. “I was-”

“Consider yourself grounded. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Grunkle Ford…”

Stan punched a goose as it tried to lunge at his brother, sending it flying in a burst of feathers. “This guardian stuff is all well and good, but we’ve kinda got a situation here. We're gonna have to get through the damned things if we want to reach that cart!"

Pacifica took a deep breath. “Then we’ll have to storm the things together.”

“But you’re _petrified_ of geese!”

“Doesn’t matter, Dipper. I’m scared of a lot of things we’ve come up against, I still _dealt_ with it.”

“Then it’s decided!” Quentin snarled dramatically, arming himself with a clawhammer. “Let’s break some tailfeathers.”

“You need to stop with the action hero stuff, Quentin. You’re way too old and posh for this stuff.”

“Old and posh _like a fox._ ”

The 8th and a half president of the United States cracked his neck, pushed his feet against the floor, and took a deep breath. Then, with barely a second of hesitation, he ran - ney, _stormed_ into the flock of advancing birds, his arms swinging wildly as he screamed inarticulately in some sort of mid-Victorian war-cry. 

Geese flew skywards as they lunged towards him, a narrow path developing through the troops as they scattered in fear from the maniacal president. 

_There was nothing like enthusiasm._

The Gooseliath stared, and honked in fury as his army began to fritter, releasing a series of strategic squawks and hisses with its surprising levels of intelligence. 

Pacifica and Dipper’s eyes widened.

With a chorus of splatters and splutches, reinforcements began to arrive from their purple berries, flooding into the battle, still slick with thick, sweet smelling juices and membranes.

It was war. A particularly bizarre war that would never reach the history books.

**The Great Gravity Falls Goose Battle of 2013 was upon them.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	18. The Great Goose Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

The family soon realised that, if they didn't join in, Quentin would find himself dead at the hands of the fiends. While Stan wasn't  _ entirely _ sure if it'd be much of a loss, they collectively decided it was only right to get involved. 

Plus, Dipper was the one holding the crystal. Quentin hadn't bothered to pay much attention to that minute level of detail. 

Pacifica was less than happy at having to run directly into a pretty damned intimidating gaggle of geese - but between that and letting her family go it alone? She figured it was a pretty obvious choice.

Ford hoisted Mabel up onto his shoulders. Stan donned his brass knuckles. Dipper held Pacifica’s hand and smiled as reassuringly as he could (while having a very minor panic attack) - and, together, the Pines ran head first into danger. 

The chaos that erupted was immeasurable. Immediately, they were met by a force that felt like a fine, goose down pillow - without the pillow. More like goose down attached to a brick wall. 

The world seemed to slow around them as they plunged into the flurrying clouds of feather and goose phlegm. Beaks flew, biting, nipping and gnawing at the Grunkles’ sleeves and legs as they attacked the intruders, their fists flying into the birds’ throats with wild abandon while Mabel kicked and headbutted any that happened to travel ‘high’.

Pacifica stared as Dipper led ahead of her - the dork who had woken the entire situation up was now taking charge; taking a heroic stance against the consequences of his actions, fearlessly storming in with his arm over his face and his head bowed, pulling her through the crowd as he ran towards the wreckage of the golf buggy.

Worryingly, getting to the buggy meant slipping between the legs of the Gooseliath, but, for now, Pacifica was concerned at the fact that a goose was now chewing on her hair - something she met by hoofing it in the stomach with her heel. 

She caught up slightly to Dipper and held onto him. It’d be a… kind of romantic, loving experience if it wasn’t for the demented ganders assaulting them. 

They were soon caught up to Quentin, who was now holding an unconscious fowl in his teeth as he pummelled the birds away from his vicinity, his suit torn and tattered, his limbs and face covered in bruises and unmistakable goose bites. 

"Go on without me!" he said dramatically, falling to his knees - his voice slightly muffled by the animal throat currently held between his teeth. "The gooseliath is targeting me! Probably because I punched it." 

"We aren't abandoning anyone, Trembley." Ford replied, determinedly toe-kicking a particularly large goose between the legs. "Move!" 

Unfortunately, the tree goose was not just a creature of vicious nature - it was one of durability. Pacifica briefly wondered if they even  _ had _ bones and internal organs, considering the amount of abuse they seemed fully capable of bouncing back from. 

Within time, the light at the end of the feathery tunnel became clear; they burst through the final few troops and found themselves hobbling towards the webbed feet of that almighty gander, staring up in awe at the sheer size of the creature. 

The gooseliath stared down at them, its glassy dark eyeballs scanning the area in a sinister, emotionless gaze that felt unpredictable. 

The birds flocked towards them, the Pines no longer blessed with being so quick at hedging an escape. The creature craned its neck down towards them, beak wide open, intending nothing more than swallowing up those humans within its midst. 

It was Dipper who opted for a powerslide and skidded between the creature's legs - leaving the rest behind. 

"Pacifica! Come on!" 

"But - but my uniform!" 

"Forget the uniform, think about  **_them_ ** !" 

She glanced at the older men - and Mabel - beating the daylights out of the overgrown ducks, and took a deep breath. 

_ "Fine _ . But this comes out of my paycheque!"

She took a step back and ran towards the creature, still trying to swallow her fear for the feathered menace, and skidded on her back, straight into Dipper and the mangled, twisted wreckage of the golf cart before them. 

The gooseliath paused in confusion and began to adjust itself - now fully locked onto the strange miniature humans who had used its legs as a tunnel. 

Dipper was already throwing away shrapnel and debris, trying to find the wiring and switches that led to those cheap headlamps with shaking hands and an enormous grass stain up his back. 

Pacifica looked at him, battered and beaten as he was, then down at herself - really, not much better off. 

She scooted closer to him and dug through the wreck of the buggy, Mabel soon joining them with a wide smile on her voice; though one jarred with a prominently bruised eye. Tires, hub caps, plastic frames and bolts went flying as they searched in the wreck, pulling out the switches and knobs from the mangled dashboard. 

"I've got it! I've got it!" Dipper grinned triumphantly as he pulled out one of the headlamps, Pacifica and Mabel followed, pulling out the cheap battery, cable and switch that led to them. 

Pacifica tried not to get too excited by the small victory, but couldn't resist giving a broad, happy smile. 

They were battered, beaten - but a quick flick of the switch proved they were still capable. Mabel was, of course, ready-armed with craft tape.

They quickly assembled their makeshift flashlight and pointed it up at the gooseliath - only to realise too late what was happening. 

With one, swift motion, the bird scooped down its massive beak and swallowed the remains of the cart - switched on headlight, crystal and all - in one big gulp, missing the teenagers by only a couple of inches.

"No! Nononono!" Dipper stood up and shook his fist, bottling up his full vocabulary of obscene words lest he be accused of losing his cool. "You stupid piece of-" 

"Wait! Wait!" Pacifica yelped, throwing Dipper back down as the bird hissed at him - shooting out a beam of light from its outsized Jaws. With a fwoom, it struck against one of the cliff top's enormous pines, and shrank it to half of its size.

It reminded Pacifica irresistibly of those schlocky giant lizard movies she had watched With Dipper and Wendy a week or so ago. Just without the giant moth. And, like, shrinking rays as opposed to nuclear beams. 

And feathers. Lots of feathers. 

The Grunkles froze as the majestic pine was reduced into a sapling - and looked up at the gooseliath as it now turned to face them. 

"Son of a bi-" 

**_SCHWOOM_ **

They dived out of the way as the gooseliath bellowed in anger, casting its less-than-deathly ray upon the army of fowl before it. 

The effect was predictable and instantaneous. The birds were shrunk to the size of sparrows en masse; not quite affecting the entire army, of course, but more than substantial enough to see their numbers - and threat - decimated. The miniature swans panicked and scattered, no longer listening to the unspoken instructions of their master.

The gooseliath began to panic, and as it panicked, it only howled more. It briefly paused as it tried to wrap its avian brain around what had happened; sadly, its mind only reverted to its default state - rage.

HONK **_-SCHWOOM_ **

HONK **_-SCHWOOM_ **

The gigantic bird continued screaming and bellowing, shrinking more of the mighty pine trees and enormous boulders into pebbles and matchsticks, the older men being forced to dodge out of the way of the flailing, scattered light beams. It was coming to a point that the crazed, furious creature seemed dead set on shrinking everything in the vicinity, or die trying. 

“What the H are we supposed to do now?!” Stan yelled. “The thing’s like a wrecking ball!”

“We need that golf cart’s headlamps.” Ford replied, grimly. “If we don’t get that thing out of the goose, we’ve no chance of containing the disaster it could cause.”

“Not else we punch it off of the cliff!" Quentin chimed in."If this goose is truly such a force to be reckoned with, it should fight like  _ a man _ !" 

Pacifica raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure fighting like a woman would be fine. Just saying."

"Yeah! We have claws, glitter and makeup. We can cause allergies!" 

However, Mabel and Pacifica’s protests fell on deaf ears. Quentin was already approaching the sinister creature with his shoulders back in his familiar power stance, his suit's tails flapping in the gentle clifftop breeze. The goose looked down at him and cocked its enormous head. 

"I challenge you to a duel, gooseliath!" The ex-president yelled, confidently, shaking his fist towards the leviathan gander. "Let us settle this!"

"Did he just call it gooseliath?" Pacifica muttered to her boyfriend, batting a tiny goose out of her hair - just as Mabel was about to stash it into her pocket. 

Dipper just nodded sincerely as the 8th and a half president of the United States wandered up to his feathery nemesis. 

It was a one on one confrontation.  


_ This was Trembley's last stand. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	19. The Final Stand of Quentin Trembley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

Quentin Trembley was called many things during his short, tumultuous time in office. A lunatic. A cretin. A maniac of insane patriotism. Wendell. 

But one thing that Dipper had never banked upon was him being a _hero_. The over 100 year old president showed barely a whisker of trepidation about the task ahead of him. The Pines family stood, their mouths agape, as he silently stepped up to the leviathanic bird that loomed over them all, his dukes raised, his trenchcoat sashaying with every step, the woodland breeze blowing through those ever-prodigious sideburns. 

“I have to insist that you get out of here.” he said to the family, glaring up at the bird.”

“We aren’t going anywhere.” Ford replied. “We aren’t leaving you to fight the thing alone.”

“This has been a long time coming. This bird is my nemesis, Stanford.” 

“You’ve only known about it for what, an hour? If that.”

“And the tension is already  _ palpable _ .” 

“What are you going to do?” Dipper asked, somewhat fearful that their eccentric ally might be planning something particularly unstable. 

The 8th and a half president of the United States cracked his knuckles and whipped out a length of rope from his seemingly bottomless pockets, tying it into a particularly outsized lasso, his eyes still fixed upon that enormous creature. 

Pacifica was momentarily impressed by the man’s ability to tie a perfect lasso without even looking at the rope. She knew a few basic knots when it came to looking after her ponies, but- 

“How many of you chaps have seen a president ride a bucking bronco?”

“Quentin.” The boy in the lumberjack cap replied, his patience teetering. “That’s a goose. Not a Bronco.”

“No, let him try.” Stan smirked. “It’ll be funny!”

Ford elbowed his brother in the side and tried to appeal to Quentin’s greater sense of reasoning - but this is something particularly difficult to do when your opponent is a man who preserved himself in peanut brittle.

“You can’t  _ seriously  _ think this is a good idea.”

“No, Sir. But I think it is an  _ idea _ , which is a damned sight more than I think the rest of us have!”

The kids glanced at each other. It was… pretty difficult to deny, even with the somewhat bizarre circumstances that Trembley was shooting for. 

The goose, tiring of the staring contest, shot out one of its beams of shrinking light with a bellowing shriek, seemingly growing only more angry and unstable as time went on. Quentin rolled out of the way - with surprising agility - and, behind where he had been stood, a fallen log was shrunk down into a small caber.

Trembley lifted the hefty chunk of lumber - not without effort - and tied it to his lasso. “You there. Stanley. You look like you’d have a good shot-putt arm.”

“Huh?”

“I need you to throw this,” The lanky man in the trenchcoat said, holding up the miniature log, “Up there.”

Stan looked up at the giant bird, back at the kids, then at his brother. “This better be some show, slick. I try not to get involved in crazy.”

There was a pause.

“How’s that working out for you, Stan?” Pacifica snarked, rolling her eyes and picking another tiny goose out of her hair. 

“Not so well, Blondie.” Stan sighed. 

The Grunkle reeled one of his burly arms backwards and flung the thing as hard as he could with a grunt. Quentin’s suspicions, at least, were correct - Stan’s arm was more than ample enough to send the wood flying skywards, the rope trailing behind it, now tied around Trembley’s waist. 

The weighted lasso slipped over the beaked creature’s head, something the creature reacted to rather predictably; immediately, it began to thrash and struggle back and forth, whipping the man off of the floor and onto its back. Trembley, as good as his word, began to fight the bucking bronco with fierce abandon, holding onto the creature’s neck as it continued to battle its strange, trenchcoated assailant.

The Grunkles pulled the kids back as the bird continued to thrash wildly, its powerful blasts of light and manic sounds of avian protest continuing to desecrate vast swaths of forest. 

“Down there, Bessie! Down there!” the president shouted; but this was no mere battle between man and beast - no mere act of animal husbandry. It was a threatening creature with every intent of causing injury and destruction. It showed no signs of tiring, no signs of weakening - no glimmer of the creature backing down from its resolute argument.

The goose howled as Quentin tried to scale the animal’s neck, looping the rope around it as he climbed it like a lumberjack would a mighty pine. The shrinking beams continued splashing out wildly, flying out over the Oregon sky. 

“What on Earth are we supposed to do?" Ford cried, holding the sides of his head. “That thing is dangerous!”

“Do you think that could, like… shrink a Jumbo jet?” Pacifica asked, worriedly. “That’s gotta be pretty dangerous, right?”

“Oh man.” Dipper gulped. “I’m too young to go to prison!”

“Relax, kid. You think I’ve been using fancy batteries in that buggy? I stole them from the Tent of Telepathy’s fire alarms. I’m surprised the damned things are still working. We might get jailed for petty theft, criminal damage, vandalism...”

“Okay, Stan, I get it-”

“Destruction of public property, libel, negligence, trespassing…”

“Grunkle Stan.”

“Underage driving, burning down the Tent of Telepathy-”

“Stan! Enough!”

“...And let’s not forget the identity theft. But not for shrinking a ‘plane. Not this time… wait. What were we talking about?”

Ford tackled Stanley out of the vicinity as another beam of light shot from the goose’s mouth. “We’re talking about what to do with the  _ giant goose _ that now has a  _ maniac  _ riding it like a  _ horse _ !”

“Hey, the guy said he had it under control, let’s see how it goes.”

“I most certainly  _ do _ !” Trembley said, proudly, raising his wide-brimmed hat to the heavens and jeering as the goose flapped and floundered against him, honking and roaring in - it must be said, fairly righteous - fury. 

The goose then opted to try and protest by ramming itself back against everything from pine trees, to rock faces, to particularly prickly bushes, continuously trying to throw off the strange man clinging so fiercely to the fine down upon its neck.

Stan sat down on one of the logs nearby and watched as the screaming goose - and screaming 8th and a half president - thrashed and flew back and forth, wildly, sending a rain of enormous feathers across the clifftop glade and into the breeze.

  
  


A cacophony of honks, squawks, hisses and screams seemed to echo in ear-straining volumes from the top of those floating cliffs, attracting the attention and fear of everybody in the town.

“ **Geez. How can people stand being so loud?!** ” Grenda complained, her iguana slipping into her shirt to escape the noise. 

“I bet it’s something to do with Pacifica.” Candy replied matter of factly. “And Mabel, and Dipper. Those three have trouble follow them around.”

“ **Yeah, they’re real oddballs, huh?** ”

“Yes.” Candy replied, before glancing at her latest, boldest fashion ensemble in a shop window. “Do you think the otter costumes are - ah - too much to be out in public?”

“ **Naw girl, you’re slayin’!** ” Came the typically voluminous reply. “N **obody expects the otter twins!** ”

The two giggled as they went about their way, otter tails swaying with every step - they, like the townspeople around them, trying to go about their day to day - albeit, intrinsically strange - routines without acknowledging the seeming  _ chaos  _ that was erupting high above their streets. 

Back up in the cliffs, however, there was no going without acknowledging a 60 foot tall goose with a man clinging onto its throat. 

“Yup. He’s got it under control.” Stan grinned, watching the increasingly dishevelled figure hanging on for dear life.

“Aren’t we going to like… help him?” Pacifica asked.

“He  _ said  _ he’s got it under control, Blondie.”

Another beam of light flashed upon the ground with a blast of air, sending increasingly shrinking debris flying skyward. 

“I take it back! I do  _ not  _ have this under control!” Quentin finally shouted at the top of his lungs. “This is going wrong. Very wrong!”

“What was the plan, Quentin?! This isn’t looking like much of a plan!” Dipper shouted up at him.

“My plan was to tame the gooseliath, Dipper!”

“And failing that?”

“I was quite convinced it would tire!”

“And failing  _ that _ ?!”

“You may need to give me a moment to consider!” Quentin shouted in response - half drowned out by the hollering gander as it stomped through the trees. 

Pacifica was suddenly tackled out of the way by Dipper as the creature made a change of direction, the pair landing with a hollow thud in a pile of toadstools - a giant webbed foot landing where she had stood only momentarily before. 

“J-jeez, Dip, when did you get reflexes like that?!”

“You pick it up in this family.”

Pacifica smiled and gently placed a hand on Dipper’s cheek. “Well, my hero.”

“I mean, I kind of owed you one.”

“look, as crazy as all this is - and as much to blame as you  _ kind of _ are - I missed you, you dork."

"Yeah, well…"

The momentary bliss of being together was very suddenly ruined by the giant bird returning to their collision course. They were forced to run out of the way and duck behind a boulder, with the rest of the family. 

Pacifica swore to herself at the gooseliath's poor sense of timing. 

The feathered fiend was surprisingly fast for what was, in the end, a bird so enormous it probably outweighed the Mystery Shack. As selfish a thought process it might have been, she was resenting the thing most at the moment for being so  _ inconvenient _ .

All she wanted was to be with her damned boyfriend and get away from this crazy stuff for a while. When was the last time she just got to sit with him and drink a coffee?! 

She sighed as they both sat with the rest of the family, Mabel giving her a wide, knowing smirk. 

The bird continued ravaging the area mindlessly, Quentin still holding onto its feathers with surprising dedication. 

The president scanned the area for an idea; any idea. Anything that could finally defeat the only menace he had encountered  _ beyond _ that of the Irish. 

His brow furrowed as his eyes met the edge of the cliff face, and the several hundred foot drop beyond its grassy peninsula.. 

_ So be it.  _

"Pines! I have a plan! I need you to get the goose off of the cliff! Preferably without it realising!" 

"A valiant plan, Trembley, but need I remind you that you're  _ tied _ to the goose?" Ford countered. 

"I am duty bound to this goose and my country, Sir! It is a worthy sacrifice!" 

The family recoiled. It was a solid act of bravery, for sure - but they weren't really used to a situation that involved sending a man to his almost certain destruction. 

"I'm pretty sure the goose will break his fall, right?" Pacifica asked, not particularly convinced by her own reasoning. 

"I mean, it's a possibility…" Ford grimaced.

"Wh-what if it kills him?!" Mabel gulped. "And what if it kills the goose?" 

"Pretty sure killing the goose is the point." Stan replied, watching the increasingly menacing bird. 

"That's awful!" The hyperactive Pines twin snapped. 

"But what other option do we have? Sweetie, if that thing gets into town, we'll be knee deep in goose crapola. Literally."

"But it doesn't  _ know _ it's evil!" 

"It's a goose, Mabel. They're  _ all _ evil." Pacifica replied. "I don't like it either, but if that's what he thinks is the best option-" 

Mabel watched fearfully as the goose hissed and shrank down a passing flock of ducks. It  _ was _ a bit hard to deny that the gooseliath was a dangerous creature that actively threatened the world around it - not to mention her beloved brother, his girlfriend and their Grunkles. 

It pained her to admit it. But outside of doing something like setting fire to it or shooting it or something otherwise bloody and unpleasant, she didn’t have an answer. 

After coming up with several less than practical plans - including creating a 60ft tall lady goose out of lumber, she admitted defeat. Her animal loving, peaceful side was forced to resign. "Fine." 

  
  


The plan was as swift as it was brutal. Mabel ran with her grappling hook and shot it point blank at one of the biggest pine trees on the clifftop, ducking out of the way as thick shards of wood splintered, the claw biting into the tree trunk with a hefty thunk, sinking deep into its side. 

“I’m sorry, tree.” She whispered, stroking it reassuringly.

Pacifica just stared blankly and figured it was probably best to let them have their moment. 

The reality of tripping a giant goose was as brutally simple as it appeared to the layman; simply reel out the Grapple line and hold it taut, followed by baiting the goose. In the absence of a sixty foot loaf of bread, it was clear that one of them would have to act as bait.

“Quentin, are you absolutely sure about this?!” Ford finally shouted before opting to pull the reel straight. “Once this happens there’s no way out of it!”

“I’m quite certain!” Came the reply in a typically old-timey tone, drowned by struggles and the crazed bird's continuing honks and hisses. “All in the name of America! Now come! Trip this demented duck to the edge of the Earth!”

The family glanced at eachother, shrugged, and did as they were told - at least, within reason. It was a  _ bit  _ difficult to follow those orders to the letter. 

“We need somebody capable of irritating the animal beyond all reason.”

“Sounds like a job for  _ you  _ to me, Ford.”

“Very funny, Stanley. You’re the only one capable of throwing hard enough to hit its head; perhaps you should be flinging rocks at it.”

“Not a chance.” 

  
  


It was only a few minutes later that Stan Pines had taken position ahead of the tripwire, a selection of rocks in his hands, his eyes wide and his back stiff. 

“Are you ready?”

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, Sixer.”

“I  _ highly  _ doubt that.”

Stan rolled his eyes, twisted his lip and took aim as the bird tried to slap its own neck against a tree, still viciously attempting to crush Trembley like a stray gnat upon its skin. The family held their breath as the old man’s throwing arm peeled and threw the rock as hard as it could - launching it skywards, straight on target. 

They pulled the line tight, stretching it with a metallic creak as the coiled cable tensed, ready to disrupt the animal.

Pacifica just held Dipper’s hand, glad of the momentary solace to be close to him. 

Dipper chuckled awkwardly as she wrapped her hand over his, gripping the cable firmly. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Pacifica sighed, giving a shrug. 

The rock hit the bird with a hollow  **_knock_ ** , startling its fairly dim avian mind from the task at hand. With a snort, it turned to face its new assailant; and focused all attention on attacking the man who had just hit it with what felt like a mosquito bite.

“Come at me, you grotesque son of a bi-”

“Stanley, watch your catchphrases around the children!”

“Eugh.”

Stan held his ground, his eyes widening and his face dropping as the thundering slaps of the creature’s webbed feet rumbled closer and closer, the cliff rattling like the Gravity Falls Railroad had been brought back to life and sent an entire year’s timetable through it at once. 

“I shoulda become a dentist.” He sighed, the bird’s enormous shadow casting over him, hollering in a combination of Trembley’s voice and demented, insane honks - with the rattling of feathers and flapping of webbed toes. 

However, if there was one thing that could prepare a Pines, it was just under a year at sea punching giant fish and Scottish sasquatches. Technically, it was just their distant Great Uncle Douglas, but that was neither here nor there. 

Stan Pines was more than capable of a supernatural face off. 

He held his ground like a champion, so steadfast that even Grunkle Ford’s heart was in his mouth before that split second dive out of the way.

  
  


The Gooseliath struck the cable hard, the entire family wheezing as it almost pulled their arms out of their sockets - the colossal bird flying flipper over throat with Quentin still aboard. Within only a moment, where there had once been a 60 foot tall bird, there was now only a cloud of feathers.

Quentin held on tightly and, at the top of his voice, screamed ‘America’, shrinking away as he fell down the enormous cliff face with that screaming, hissing creature. 

The family grimaced, Pacifica almost instinctively throwing herself at Dipper and squeezing him tightly as the reality - and silence - of what they had just done set in. 

And remained. 

Remained completely, and utterly silent. 

There was no thump, no splatter, no colossal bang of that gigantic goose hitting the floor. 

The Pines dare not look over the cliff to see what had happened; they just blinked and waited. 

But that impact never came. 

“Wait.” Dipper piped up. “Geese-”

**_WOOOMPH_ ** ****

A gust of air suddenly blew off his lumberjack’s cap as a huge, soaring silhouette, wings akimbo and neck outstretched, flew above them at incredible speed, soaring over the clifftops and towards the Oregonian mountain ranges. 

It was spellbinding. A sleek, flapping shape of strength and grace, any sign of its unhinged anger now gone to the wind, lost to the creature's sudden beauty and strength. 

Atop its back, Quentin Trembley triumphantly proclaimed his supremacy, his arms outstretched in pride and self celebration as he hollered, his tattered tailcoat flapping in the wind, like a man who had only just discovered the power of flight for the first time. 

Which, technically, considering his age, he kind of  _ had _ . 

"Geese  _ fly _ ." Dipper stared. "How the heck did we forget that geese fly?" 

"I dunno, but I think it's taking Quentin with it…" Pacifica gulped. "You think he's gonna be okay?" 

"Hey, he survived this long, blondie." Stan replied. "If anyone is going to survive that, he will."

A slightly beaten silk cravat floated down from the animal, landing at Mabel's feet; joined by a single feather. She picked it up and stared up at their departing ally. “Farewell, Mr. President.”

Pacifica blinked. She was looking forward to learning what all of the president stuff was about. Right now she was feeling more confused than ever about the old timey stranger; as if the coffee and bacon fat hadn’t been enough to bewilder her. 

There was a pause as the silhouette of the Gooseliath disappeared into the hills, the family all so moved and awe inspired by that bizarre, beautiful sight that they had fallen silent. 

Pacifica felt Dipper's hand around her waist as they both watched. She pretended not to notice. 

For at least a moment, everything felt  _ perfect _ . Until, at least, she started thinking. Her eyes widened...

Stan rubbed his chin and glanced back at the kids. "... What the hell are we supposed to do with his bison?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	20. A Farewell to Linda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

The family descended the cliff tops quietly, still sore, still battered - but not beaten. Hobbling, holding their arms, rubbing their bruises - still somewhat shaken by what they had encountered. Pacifica linked her arm with Dipper’s and sighed. 

“What a day.” 

“Could be worse.”

“Not so sure about that, hon. We were meant to be finding Curzon. All we found was a giant goose."

"Pacifica’s right. For all of the travelling we've done, we haven't actually gotten closer to our target." Ford adjusted his glasses as he spoke, sternly. "The mission has been a failure. That danger is still out there; and now there's a giant goose added to the list."

"Not to mention thousands of them being born from a tree." Stan added. 

"And half of them now being the size of sparrows." Mabel piped in. 

"Right enough." Ford smiled, ruffling Mabel's hair. "Make no mistake, we have to keep those clifftops a secret."

Dipper looked at the floor as Ford's eyes pierced him. 

"And I think it's only right that we investigate Trembley's documents while  _ everyone _ here tells us  _ exactly _ what's going on."

Dipper and Mabel glanced at eachother, and, armed with a pair of tweezers, got to work freeing up those stuck pages and recounting the saga of last summer’s encounter with The Hunter. 

Pacifica had soon recognised the name Quentin Trembley when the details of that fateful Pioneer Day had been retold to her. The fact that she had a strange headache and vague memories of hooded cult members when it was brought up troubled her somewhat; but seemed best not to question. 

Probably just a nightmare. 

The full details of the Northwest cover up and Trembley's bizarre post-'death' adventures were enough to bewilder even the most fortified, jaded mind - but only just managed to level out with the discovery of the tree geese of Gravity Falls. For the most part, it felt like the Pines family could believe  _ anything _ , at this stage. 

Together, the Pines took apart many pieces of paperwork, folders and furniture in the attempt to locate any sort of useful information that related to Quentin’s hunts and research. Their main target, of course, was to discover anything Quentin may have known about Curzon Cankerblight and his plans of revenge. His plans for regeneration, and his plans for the future.

Ford and Stan dug through a battered old filing cabinet - made out of a railway caboose’s stove - and were surprised to find a large, manilla folder within - hand written in great detail. 

**_The Northwest Family - Top Secret_ **

They glanced at eachother, and looked over their shoulders to Pacifica, flipping through piles of conspiratorial, detailed paperwork regarding the crooked masters of Gravity Falls - and, to their horror, their connections with many of the greatest horrors and ill fated businesses in the town’s history.

**_Curzon Cankerblight._ **

**_The Great Mudflap Flood of 1932._ **

**_The Secrets of Northwest Manor._ **

**_The Gravity Falls Railroad._ **

**_The UFO Sighting of 1967._ **

**_The Wreck of the Gravity Falls Paddle Steamer._ **

Insurance fraud. Negligence. A general lack of compassion.

And, in those final few pages, their hair stood on end. 

**_Bill Cipher._ **

The Grunkles opted to quietly stash the folder in Ford’s trenchcoat for more… thorough examination, away from their newest - and, in their mind, most promising - protege. 

It was Soos who decided to bring his pickup truck to relocate Linda, something he did with very little questioning - though he was somewhat startled by the condition the Pines had returned in. He figured it would be nice for Gompers the goat to have a friend following the collapse of his marriage to Waddles. 

Linda seemed no worse for wear from the loss of her owner, and spent many happy hours outside rifling through the bins and attempting to eat the odd passing gnome - that was, until one morning.

At 4AM, Pacifica, Dipper and Mabel were stirred awake by a soft flapping and the slap of webbed feet - and all three of them were fairly confident as to the source of the noise.

They ran to the porch, and, right enough, there stood the Gooseliath - now wearing an improvised bridle and bit made of old rails and rope, with the letters ‘QT’ painted on its chest. 

The gooseliath stared down at them, blankly.

They froze, unsure how to deal with another encounter with the enormous bird - only for Quentin to climb down from the bird’s back with a triumphant - if typically dramatic - flair. 

“Greetings, Pines.”

“Quentin! You’re okay!” Mabel beamed. “We were worried!”

Quentin stood, with his hands on his hips and his back straight, his prominent nose pointed in the air. “I’m more than okay, my dear Congresswoman. I’m here to collect Linda so she may join Gooseliath and I upon our travels.”

“What travels? What are you doing?” Dipper asked, eyeing the enormous letters on Gooseliath’s chest.

“I am travelling my great country in a way no man has ever travelled it.  **_By air_ ** .”

The kids didn’t have the heart to tell him. 

“Together, we are hunting the strangest creatures in North America.” The president continued.”And touring the nation’s greatest waffle houses. I am continuing the example set by your fine family, ridding the world of villainy. And giraffes. It is  _ my  _ theory those creatures are from an alternate dimension. Just like the Irish.”

“So...that’s it?” Pacifica asked, deciding not to approach the topic of giraffes. Life was too short. “You don’t have anything else to tell us?”

“Ah, but I have, young Dipper Pines’ wife.”

Pacifica flushed and glanced at Dipper. Mabel just squashed her cheeks together excitedly. 

“Curzon is indeed making his move. And I believe he is travelling to Northwest Manor.”

Pacifica’s eyes widened. “W-why would he be-”

“That mansion house holds many secrets, my dear. Deep within, there is much more than meets the eye, and that family has made a great many preparations for Cankerblight.”

“I… I’ve never heard of- well, he won’t find the Northwests there!” She stammered.

“Then I’d advise you to contact the current residents. Cankerblight is looking for his end of their deal; make no mistake. He and the Northwests have a dark, sinister history.”

Pacifica groaned and buried her head in her hands. 

Of  _ course  _ it went back to her family. It always did. No exceptions; every damned time it was the Northwests who lurked in the shadows, corrupting just about every corruptible thing they could corrupt.

It made her feel sick. It made her feel ashamed. It made her feel appalled the more that she learnt, and she didn’t think things could get any worse.

She sat on the sofa on the porch and took a deep breath. “Great.”

Dipper held her tightly and tried to hide his own frustration at the fact they were going to go up against his girlfriend’s family  _ again _ . It was becoming pretty tiresome to see all of this woven together so intricately; everything that they encountered made it seem increasingly fateful that, one day, Pacifica would join their ranks - join the Pines in their vague quest to put things right for the bizarre town. 

Linda lumbered over to Quentin, licking his face before standing on one of the goose’s feet.  The kids stared blankly as the giant goose raised its leg like a flamingo, elevating the bison into its soft, deep stomach plumage. 

“Now, I must bid you farewell. I hope you all stay safe.” The president smiled. “Take care of yourselves, good luck in married life, and I wish you luck in your conquest against Cankerblight.”

He pranced back to his goose and clambered aboard, smacking its side. The bird raised its head and slowly began to beat its wings.

“High-ho, Silverware!”

The gooseliath took off, every bit as graceful, elegant and terrifying as the day they had first encountered it. Quentin Trembley, Linda and the Gooseliath - a trio to be reckoned with.

“...I hope we never see him again.” Pacifica snapped.

Dipper just nodded, his arm around her as he watched that almighty shadow circle off into the heavens; back to its bizarre mission across the United States. 

“Agreed.” Mabel grinned, with a broad smile on her face.  It was all just another part and parcel for life in Gravity Falls. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


	21. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fearful encounter with the monster of The Crawlspace in "It Came From Thrifty's", Pacifica Northwest is continuing to confront the idea of the Pines being her future.
> 
> When a mysterious stranger arrives at Greasy's Diner, claiming to know Curzon Cankerblight personally - and believing him to still be out there - her resolve to stay 'normal' throws itself to the wind. The hunt is on!
> 
> However, she and the Pines can't shake the feeling there's something amiss with the stranger. Could it all be a wild goose chase?

For the next few days, America was alight with UFO reports concerning strange, scattered incidents of shrinking forests, houses and mountains - and huge swathes of farm stocks being shrunk into miniature petting Zoos.

At least until the gooseliath’s lamp was petered out by those cheap batteries. 

Legend has it that, to this day, gigantic, flapping UFOs are a regular occurrence across vast lengths of North America, however, and that a bizarre man wearing no pants is continuing his mission to hunt down giraffes and eat waffles from state to state, with feathers in his sideburns and goosebites in his tailcoat. 

For the kids, it was a perfect opportunity to spend a few days laughing at the bizarre news reports and relax for a little while, leaving the Grunkles to whatever work they were getting up to in Ford’s study. 

Soos followed their mishap by purchasing a small batch of new mystery carts from several used golf cart dealerships - which were apparently a thing, now. It was fair to say that, beyond maintenance, the Shack didn’t use the carts very often anymore - the Awesome Express took the role admirably. Or, at least, would do so when they had removed it from the tree Manly Dan had thrown it into. 

Instead, Soos had given each of the family a set of keys, telling them it was to help them go on their adventures. He also elbowed Dipper several times in the ribs, insinuating it would be good for him and Pacifica to get some more time alone.

It was an appealing prospect. 

The next evening, Dipper and Pacifica did something they weren’t particularly used to; they packed a picnic, and went off to spend some time alone. Just themselves and their thoughts. They ascended the clifftops of Gravity Falls, sitting comfortably in that peaceful, waterbound glade with nobody but eachother’s company and the stars. 

They sat together, watching the fireflies and miniature geese going about their blissful, quiet lives, hundreds of feet above the crooked little town down below; lit by the warm yellow hue of the summer moon. 

Pacifica laid back and took a deep breath. It was nice. It was peaceful. It was honest, it was simple, and it was something she had never really gotten to experience properly with him before. 

Dipper had never really been alone with a girl before, and was far less acclimated to ‘peace and quiet’.

“So…”

“You don’t have to talk all the time, y’know, Dip.”

“I-I’m sorry, I just-”

“It’s fine. What’s on your mind, hon?”

“Well… we’re almost halfway through Summer, and-”

“And you want to know what’s gonna happen?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Look, honestly? I’m not sure.” She replied, holding out her hands and beginning to count on her fingers. “Your Grunkles want me to come with them, Soos wants me to stay in the Shack and help out during quiet season, Abuelita wants to adopt me, Susan wants to move me in with her. I’ve… not got a shortage of options. I guess trying to be a better person has kinda worked in my favour.”

“And… do you want… us to still be a thing?”

Pacifica sat up and smiled. “I mean, will the famous Dipper Pines wait for me?”

“Of course I would.” He stammered. “I- Pacifica, this stuff means a lot to me, okay? I don’t mind waiting to see you every year. I really want this to work, but-”

“But?”

“But you’re- you’re from a whole different world to me, Paz. You’re not some scrappy monster hunter kid, you’re used to living as a member of the elite, being rich and powerful, you’re used to pearls and ponies and you’re used to eggs benedict and-”

“I’m your  _ girlfriend _ , Dipper. I admit I’m still… getting used to this stuff, but I love it. You don’t need to provide me that kind of life, and you don’t need to be rich and famous. You’re a nerd and... “

She bit her lip. 

“...I guess I’m a nerd too. And I’m kinda enjoying building my own way through life. I’m a 14 year old with a job, Dipper. I’m already kinda rich by our standards, right?”

“I-i-guess, I just- I’m not-”

“For once in your life, Dipper, calm down.” Pacifica smiled, taking hold of his hand. “We’re not going anywhere. We’re in this together, and, for what it’s worth, I think we do pretty good together.” 

Dipper smiled, shifting uncomfortably. “M-me too.”

The two looked out upon the crooked, strange little town that they loved and feared in equal measure; the gentle babbling of the clifftop brook and the chirping of tiny swans providing a soft, echoing refrain to their thoughts and feelings.

And, more tumultuously, their nerves - their fear. Their trepidation. 

“Do you think things are going to get worse? With Curzon?” She asked, her eyes gazing across the valley to the Northwest Manor. 

“I think we’ve only just started getting into the serious stuff, Paz. I think… I think we need to be ready.” 

“Dipper?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s still Pacifica.” 

_**Fin.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, what a ride, eh? Thank you all for tuning in. Episode 6 is being planned but might be some way off yet. 
> 
> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions, along with TheBardWhoLives - who you should also check out on AO3:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBardWhoLives
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk

**Author's Note:**

> I must confess, I never expected to reach episode five in this little series, but it's becoming second nature to me, now!
> 
> Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!
> 
> Find my artwork:  
> www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com
> 
> Find my socials:  
> www.jamooney.tumblr.com  
> www.instagram.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Patreon:  
> www.patreon.com/jamooneyart
> 
> Or my alternative history novel:  
> www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk


End file.
